Into the Fire
by J. Finch
Summary: Some days you just can't win. When I went to bed last night, I had normal problems. Bills. Work. That sort of thing. Today I woke up on the cold ground, a cybernetic plate welded into my head and a ruthless taskmaster holding me at gunpoint, forcing me to play gopher in a universe on the brink of extinction. I'm on the edge of the frying pan, looking into the fire, ready to jump.
1. Chapter 1

_So, this is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while now. Building the character was the hardest part of this particular project, mostly because I'm finicky about self inserts in general. I like reading those kinds of fics, and I always wanted to try my hand at one, but I was... hesitant to commit. Lot of false starts, you know? Either way, I want to give it a crack and see what I can do with it. Here's hoping, and as always, reviews and criticism are most welcome!  
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_On the side, all intellectual rights belong to their appropriate owners. I'm just playing in their sandbox. Just saying._

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 Part 1<strong>

The Reality of the Situation

~with special guest~

James Harper as The Voice

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><p>"Wake up, Mr. Finch. It's time for you to get to work."<p>

"Ugh..." I groaned, laying face first in the ground, pebbles digging into my skin as my eyes fluttered open, letting blurry light in and sending spikes of pain through my head.

"Didn't you hear me, Mr. Finch? It's time for you to wake up. I don't like to repeat myself." There was a pause. "Perhaps you need some... motivation."

On the word I went from dazed exhaustion to absolute clarity as pain like I'd never felt before wracked through me, exploding across my skin and into my muscles, digging deeply into my bones and organs, and wrapping my brain all at once. It was like being lit on fire and frozen and electrified all at once while my bones shattered and all my muscles disintegrated. Every agony I'd ever conceived of all at once, every moment of utter suffering, every thought or preconception of what pain could be was wrapped into one singular instance of sheer torment.

I don't know if it was a blessing or a curse when it cut out, leaving me groaning incoherently, my muscles spasming and twitching from the sensation of god only knew what as it tore through me. In that single moment I had gone through a thousand different agonizing thoughts and then was left gasping and weeping like a child. It was... words failed me. All I knew was that it was Bad, and that it being over was Good. Nothing else mattered.

Needless to say, I was up.

"Awake now, Mr Finch? Or do we need another?" I could practically hear the smug in his voice.

"Yes! Fuck, yes." I scraped out, rolling onto my back with a metallic clacking that I couldn't identify. The last echoes of pain were already fading away, vanishing like dust on the wind as the moments passed.

"Good, good. I was worried that the drugs in your system would cause you trouble. I'm pleased to see that isn't the case." The voice said, more and more familiar with each passing word. I'd heard it before, but I didn't know where, and that bothered me. I usually had a good memory with these things but... now? Nothing. Vague recollections, distant ponderings, like a word just at the tip of my tongue. I had nothing. Shit.

"What's happening? The fuck was that?" I asked, tiredly rubbing at my face. To my surprise I felt the cool touch of metal and synthetic fiber pressing against my forehead when I did. My hand was plated in some kind of gauntlet, black with glowing red lines, I observed distantly, staring at it with no small amount of trepidation.

Suddenly the need to focus became that much more consuming.

"Good to see you coming to, Mr. Finch. I know you must have all sorts of questions, but time really is of the essence and I have much to explain to you." The voice paused, and I thought I could hear something in the background. Shuffling, or static, I don't know. I glanced down at myself in the interim, taking in the fact that my hands weren't the only thing in armor. So too was the rest of me.

I don't know what bothered me more about it. That I was dressed in full plate, or that it was armor and I was _wearing it_. I'm not stupid. The implications alone... I wouldn't be dressed like this without a reason, and I just knew I wasn't going to like finding it out.

"What you just experienced was a small lesson in Pavlovian mechanics. Consider it the basis of our relationship, you and I. I have work for you. Things I need you to do. When you do them you'll be rewarded. Refuse to comply, and I will punish you. Do you understand, Mr. Finch?" Dulcet tones, so agonizingly familiar, but still so distant, rang in my ear. Now that I could focus, I couldn't help but notice that I was alone, yet I could still hear whoever it was with perfect clarity.

"Yes." My mind raced across a dozen possible thoughts on the matter, but one hit me with a sense of absolute certainty. It was a sub-dermal implant, a transceiver installed in my inner ear. But how did I know that? That kind of thing... it wasn't real. Something strait out of sci-fi. But it made sense, given how I could hear his voice with crystalline clarity yet couldn't see anything like a radio on either my armor or on me.

I rolled into a sitting position before hoisting myself up to my knees, and from there, onto my feet. More clacking, and from what it looked like I was right. I was plated in armor, but it wasn't segmented like you would think, but rather interwoven onto some kind of mesh covering that hugged by body like a cat suit. It was thick, heavy padding, and looked almost like some kind of rubberized polymer while the plates were thick, hard sheets of some kind of metal or ceramic, painted glossy black and framed with glowing streams of incandescent red.

"Good. So long as you remember that, I foresee our relationship being very mutually beneficial. Now then, that having been established, your job will be to retrieve certain things for me. I will direct you, of course, and monitor you as much as I can, providing information and assistance where I deem necessary. To that end, I've taken the time to equip you appropriately for the task at hand. There's going to be violence in your future, Mr. Finch. I advise you to be ready to handle that." He said, and I finally took a moment to get my head on strait. That explained the armor, then. Shit. I wasn't a soldier. I wasn't trained, or even in particularly good shape. Yet here I was, taken anyway. I couldn't stop the questions from bubbling out of my mouth.

"What? Why?" I asked back, glancing around at my surroundings. I was in a forest, far as I could tell. Not humid, but temperate, and I could taste smoke in the air. The ground around me was churned up some, as if something large had rested there just recently and then left, but I couldn't see anything in the sky, which was tainted a deep red. It was twilight, and I had no idea where I was.

"Wondering what, Mr. Finch? Why you? In all honesty, I can't say. I needed someone with your... lets say unique knowledge of what's going on, but I cast a wide net. You were the one that I caught, and so here you are. Bad luck on your part, I suspect, but you know what they say. Shit happens." He dropped off, his voice still touched with that smug edge. He sounded... older. Had a bit of gravel in his voice and a definite southern twang that came out when he got going. Very genteel, if that made sense.

"You gotta know I'm not cut out for uh... violence... right? I'm not a soldier. You understand that?" I said distantly. In all honesty I'd never even held a weapon before, not a real one. Why the hell would he take me if he knew that there was going to be fighting? And what did he mean, unique knowledge? I was a cook. I made food. It was what I was going to school for, for Christ sake. How does that translate? Was it something else I knew? Fuck all what that might be. I was a gamer. I wrote as a hobby. I didn't have much of a life outside of that.

"I know that, but like I said, I had to cast a wide net. You really shouldn't worry yourself, though. I anticipated it might be a problem before hand, and took steps to rectify it." I really didn't like the sound of that. I really, _really_ didn't like the sound of that.

"Steps?" I almost didn't ask.

"Why yes, Mr. Finch. Steps. Raise your hand, and feel the back of your neck." I did, and something not skin met my fingers with a metallic tink. "What you're feeling is my solution to your problem. The metallic plate that you feel is a phenomenally advanced neural interface linked directly into your medulla oblongata. The center of all autonomous action in the body. It's designed to accelerate your reflexes and muscle control subconsciously, replacing the need for muscle memory and training with something of a shortcut. It's also wired into sections of your brain that provide conscious information, feeding you the background details you need to know about your weapons, armor, condition and situation." My eyes went wide. That feeling I had about there being an implant in my ear? Oh shit. I didn't even need to think about it to know he wasn't lying. Oh god. Oh hell. Someone put a _thing_ in my _head_. _They wired something into my brain!_

"It's also the mechanism that controls your pain function. Do not try to remove it, the results would be... unpleasant." I paused at that, letting my hand drop back down. If it was true, then that would explain the agony I'd felt when I came to. The fact that he flicked it on with such casual ease was terrifying in a lot of ways. Just the fact that it was there... good god, what happened to me?

"I'm reading a spike in your heart rate Mr. Finch. I advise you to calm down before I calm you down." I can't even begin to describe the sense of terror that single sentence instilled into me. I forced a deep breath down my throat regardless, though. Oh fuck me.

"Why? What did I ever do to you?" I choked out. This was... god, I don't even know.

"Nothing, Mr. Finch. Please understand, this isn't personal. So long as you do what I say, when I say, you have nothing to fear from me. Were it possible, I would have taken someone else, but as it is you're the best I've got. For that I am sorry, but dwelling on it won't do either of us any good. Do you understand?" Bastard didn't even pretend to be remorseful about it. I could hear it in his voice. Detached, smug, cold, and brutal. Not an ounce of humanity in any of it.

I shuddered.

"That said," He began again, and I forced myself to focus. I didn't want to know what would happen if this prick felt he needed to repeat himself. "That said, you have a job to do, and in order to do it I need to get you on the move. Look around you, Mr. Finch. Somewhere nearby should be a helmet. Find it and put it on."

I was moving before the voice even finished speaking. The helmet he was talking about was lying nearby, maybe ten feet from where I'd come to. Lifting it, I took a moment to look it over. Like the armor, it was made from the same glossy black ceramics framed with a red inlay, though it lacked the same glow as the armor itself and sported a distinctly Y-shaped visor in the center. The inside was lined with the same synthetic polymer as the armor, though to a more form-fit degree and molded together with what I assumed were seals of some kind. Altogether, with it's design and it's material, it reminded me of a helmet that you might see in a more medieval period, minus the glossy visor.

The implications didn't bode well. Still, I put it on with a surprising degree of familiarity, my hands moving to clasp the almost invisible locks around the base of the helm, attaching it to the neck brace that went up to my chin, sealing the suit together. I can't begin to say how much the fact that I knew how to do this bothered me, or the fact that I did so with flawless repetition. The interface on my neck had given me the finesse borne of training without the actual training.

Almost immediately my face lit up with a dozen different readouts, all numbers and letters in wildly random variants, before the dark inside of the helmet flashed on. What was opaque flared into crystal clarity, and despite the shape of the visor I could see forward without any problems. Were it not for the feeling of the helmet on my face, it would be like I wasn't wearing anything at all. In seconds the screen flashed again, first linking with the armor itself, showing me a wireframe of the suit itself, each section flaring red, then yellow, then green as it checked the integrity of the suit and the seals. As each section flashed green, I could hear a faint hiss followed by a clank and a sensation of tightening, and in my mind information on the suit filtered in.

The feeling of tightening was the suit's internal exoskeleton reading my dimensions and adjusting to the change in shape, augmenting my strength and movement speed to compensate for my lack of physique, multiplying it by an order of magnitude. The joints fitted into place as well, tightening, loosening, almost breathing as they measured my arch and curve, calculating how much force multiplication I could take before the servos would snap my limbs and adjusting accordingly.

Once done, the suit felt pounds lighter, and the wireframe faded away, replaced by a dozen different readouts. Information that I didn't understand until I looked at it flickered about, measuring my condition and establishing baselines for the suit's internal monitors. It checked everything from my heart rate to my BMI, breaking it all down and then storing it in it's database before moving on to the next aspect of it's activation.

Instantly, an orb of bluish-purple energy flashed into existence around me, looking like rain on a windowpane before humming and vanishing while the first bar of my HUD flickered on, taking it's place in the upper left corner of my vision. It comprised of several blue segments with a number beneath it, reading at an even 400, which was then followed by a solid green bar that read 100%. I knew that they were for shields, and then armor integrity and I was getting to the point where the shock of having information plugged strait into my brain was wearing thin.

Next up came expendable supplies, which took up space on the right corner of my HUD. Five units Medi-Gel, five grenades, thirty units Omni-Gel and a sudden sinking sensation as to what it all meant. It took a moment, but my suit linked up with an omni-tool I didn't know I had, connecting itself to my armor and flaring into existence. As it linked up, an icon appeared on my HUD, with a name attached, Shield Boost, which then shrank down and fitted itself to the bottom of the screen. Incinerate was next, followed by Concussive Shot, Sticky Grenade, Submission Net, and finally Cain Trip Mine, each taking up a numbered slot after Shield Boost.

Finally, the scanner pinged the magnetic locks on my armor, picking up the folded weapons I knew would be there. Each popped up, showing a wireframe of the weapon before shrinking down and settling into the far left corner. An M-99 Saber, first, complete with omni-bayonet and the high-velocity barrel. An M-9 Tempest was next, again with the high-velocity barrel and a recoil compensator, and finally an M-358 Talon, complete with the magazine upgrade and the heavy barrel.

I knew this armor. Those weapons. Those skills and items. Suddenly a lot of things made a sick kind of sense. I knew this place. Knew it's story, it's history, it's heroes and villains. And I also knew something else.

It's secrets.

"Do you like it? As I said, I took the time to compensate for some of the... shall we say discrepancies that would otherwise plague a normal person like yourself in this kind of situation. I assume you've put together where you are?" I could practically feel the cockiness in that bastard's voice. But yes, I had. I finally understood what he meant by "unique knowledge".

"You put me in the Mass Effect universe. God damnit." I sighed, and his laughter echoed through my skull.

"Indeed I did, Mr. Finch. When I cast the net, the only thing I could set it for was someone with a deep understanding of the lore and the world. You fit the bill. Beat the games a few dozen times, found all the little details out. Listened to all the conversations. Put more than two thousand hours into the series total. Read the books, the background, the details, all of it. You loved it, Mr. Finch. It was your obsession, and now, thanks to me, you get to live it too. You're welcome." He laughed, and I shuddered at the detached coldness in his voice. This was insane. I was going insane. There's no way this... this can't be real. It's a dream. It has to be.

Deep down, I knew I was only deluding myself.

"Like I said, I need you to collect a few things for me, Mr. Finch. Your... shall we say, understanding of events gives you the insight you need to do that. There are things here that I want, that you need to get for me. And you will get them for me."

"What? This is insane. You... you kidnap me, you take me here, you drop me off in this fucking fantasy world and just... what, think I'm going to play along? Do you know what happens here? Do you have any fucking clue as to what's coming?" I finally snapped, screaming at him. I could feel my fists clenching tightly as a deep sense of rage, of indignation flooded through me.

And then came nothing but PAIN.

"I do, Mr. Finch, and I would care to mention that taking that tone with me is ill-advised. In all honesty, I don't care what you want to do on the side, so long as you do what you're told in the interim. I put you on Eden Prime for a reason. You're going to join the good Commander Shepard here. You're going to join the fight, because the Commander goes to where I need you to be. And then you will collect what it is I require, because I say you will. I own you, Mr. Finch. You are my prisoner, except in that you will carry your prison with you. You will not share what you know, you will not change things, you will not rock the boat. You will follow the path, and you will do so happily or I will make you regret the day that cunt of a woman you called mother dragged you screaming into the void."

The pain cut out and I bonelessly fell to the ground, tears streaming down my face as I wept from the sheer unadulterated agony I'd just felt. I seized and shuddered and curled into a ball, screaming incoherently for I don't know how long. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Until it all came crashing down, and left me feeling drained and exhausted.

"Do you understand me, Mr. Finch? Or do we need another lesson?" Any trace of emotion had left the voice while I pulled myself up, barely, forcing myself off the ground with my head hanging between my legs. I wanted to vomit, to scream more, to do anything else.

"Yes." I never hated myself more than in that second.

"Good. I need you to stay alive, Mr. Finch, and I went to no small expense to keep you that way. Yes, you may find some things different from how you remember them. Little details. No heat sinks, since that hasn't been reverse engineered from the Geth quite yet, but the rest is all stock I assure you. Most of it you can find in the Terminus, in fact. For the right price." He carried on like what had happened hadn't. Bastard.

"That said, you will have to make up something in the interim. There will be questions, but I've established a full background for you, Mr. Finch. It will stand up to scrutiny, such as it might be. For now, though, you're a bounty hunter. You're here on a job- a bounty, but your ship was shot down in the field. You've been fighting your way through, following the pattern of Geth patrols, tracking them, seeing what they want. This is your inroad. I suggest you make it believable." I noted that a compass appeared in the upper left corner of my HUD, and that despite the rather brutal shock to my system I was recovering at a geometric rate. A small mercy inbetween the rock and the hard place.

"I've set a waypoint for you on your overhead. It's where you need to go, so I advise getting a move on." Bereft of other options, I knew I had to bow and do it. Still, whatever else there was to think about, and there was a lot, he seemed content to send me on my way. I still had no idea what he was looking for or why, and something bothered me about that as a whole.

He ripped me across dimensions for all I knew, kitted me out in gear that, quite frankly, was a hell of a wide margin above whatever starter gear Shepard would have and set me up with skills and the abilities that I had no right having access to. Then sets me here so I could "connect" to the game's main protagonist and supposedly builds me a background that's up to snuff despite my never having existed in this universe. That's not even mentioning the brain implant, of which still left me feeling gutted when I thought about it, or that goddamn pain trigger he had me by the throat with.

The sheer scope of that... this bastard did the impossible. He put me here, violating everything I thought I knew about how the world worked, basically bending reality in the process, yet there was something he needed me to fetch him? Couldn't he just... I don't know, will it to himself? It would make about as much sense as anything else. So why? What's the difference between that and this? What's stopping him?

I didn't know. I wasn't going to ask either, for that matter. Far as I could tell, he couldn't read my thoughts so there was that, but the flipside is that he could hear what I was saying. I didn't have the option of saying no, didn't have the information I needed to even try arguing the point, and if experience taught me anything this prick might just blast me for pondering it. What's more, he picked me because of how much I knew about Mass Effect, though my being here was anything but intentional if he was to be believed. Knowledge is power, and he knew it, and the stuff I know... it could change the course of history with the right ear. Unfortunately, he knew that too.

He brought me here because... what, I knew the series? He said he needed me to play gopher, and I'm not blind. There are a lot of things in the games that knowing about beforehand would make... if not easier then at least somewhat more manageable. Forewarned is forearmed, right? But what did he need, and why? Clearly something linked to Shepard's mission, but but which events were relevant to that? And which weren't? Shit... all good questions, and they didn't even scratch the tip of the iceberg. I needed to know those answers, and much more besides before I could even start to speculate. Too many variables. Too many possibilities, and this prick wasn't the type to play it straight. Shit. It would have to wait.

For now, I had to do what he said. Had to follow orders.

I didn't have a choice. Not yet, anyway.

Not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: So, this is up. Just noticed the formatting error with the first line, but I don't quite know how to fix that. Going to play around with it in the meantime, but for now, the show must go on!_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1 Part 2<span>**

Going Places You Don't Want To Be

~with special guest~

Ming-Na Wen as T.I.N.A.

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><p>At first, it hadn't really sunken in. The fact that I was here, in this place, this time. For me, it was all just a game, all just fantasy sci-fi, that I was going to wake up and all of this would be like a bad dream. It was because of this mindset, I had forgotten something. Something very fundamental. Something that I was being reminded of right this very second.<p>

This was not a game. This was real. What I remembered as pixels on a screen followed a kind of set system of rules and expectations. Rules and expectations that had tainted my perspective walking into this. I had, on some level, still associated this to the game, where enemies ran off of a simple, predictable AI and gunfire did little more than chip away at a bar on a screen, where everything was held at a third person perspective. Where things were easy to manipulate, where there was a sense of order to any chaos that came your way.

It was with this in mind, or rather, in spite of it, that I forgot an important fact.

_Geth were dangerous._

Like an idiot with no idea what I was doing, I had walked, literally, right into a patrol of the AI platforms, ignoring every instinct, real or fake, and just stood there stupidly while all four of them pointed their weapons at me and opened up full bore. In that instant a dozen thoughts blew through my mind in a confused mess jumble of information all while my shields dropped like a rock in a pond from the concentrated fire.

Between four Geth troopers my shields had dropped to almost nothing in the four seconds it took me to realize that I was going to die, and in that instant the world slowed down. Part of me wanted to roll into the nearby cover of a large log on the ground, part of me wanted to fall back in shock, part of me wanted to turn and run, and in that instant I had a moment of sheer, unadulterated failure.

My left leg caught under my right as I tripped almost diagonally, falling face first as in that second my shields popped like a balloon and through sheer providence, moved me so that my chest wasn't lined up with the Geth rifles. Dumb luck and random chance were with me as most of the shots hammered into the side of my chest plate, into the thickest section, sending me flying from the concentrated force as I felt the sensation of four grain-sized pellets of metal lance through the gap of my shoulder, sending out a spray of blood and bone.

The feeling of white-hot material seared through me as the shock of having my shoulder obliterated was only expounded by me slamming into the ground, rolling over a large rock and falling into a bush, the pain stabbing and burning and screaming in agony as I hit the ground and felt my whole body bruise up as I slid to a stop. My mind was blank, blurry with pain and stunned from the hits, and I could feel one of my arms and both my legs laying splayed across the ground at odd angles, stretched to the breaking point. Stunned and stilled, I barely heard the sound of the Voice in my ear as I tried to focus on anything but pain and failed miserably.

He was telling me to move, to get up, but my body didn't respond, couldn't respond, stunned as it was from the fall. I was going dark, the light at the edges of my eyes blurring and blackening as the sensation of injury overwhelmed me, and in the distance I could hear the static buzz of Geth speak as they closed in on me.

I was going to die.

"Warning: Massive trauma detected. Applying emergency medi-gel injection." For a moment I had thought I'd heard the voice of an angel, soft and feminine, almost caressing my battered psyche with a feather-soft touch. In that instant I thought I'd died, because all the pain went away.

Then I woke up. My lungs filled with air. My bones knit. My muscles mended. My pain faded. My exhaustion, gone. My focus came flooding back, and in that instant my eyes opened almost for the first time. The world blew into my senses with crystalline clarity. Every detail was processed, every stream of light, every breath of air, every sound, every movement, all of it flooded into my head in a stream of never ending data.

I didn't see the Geth. I felt it. I could hear it's feet crushing the undergrowth, it's treads scraping against rock and dirt, it's chassis pushing branches and leaves away, the whir of it's servos and motors, the bunching of it's myomer muscles. I could taste it, smell it, sense it even before it crested the small hill I'd fallen over, and it hit me.

That sense of calm. That sense of clarity. Pain had shaken me from the simple plight of a man in over his head. It had, in me, awoken something primal. Something old. Something that, once all other trappings had been stripped away, defined what a man is.

Fight or flight. Kill or run. Risk life, or face certain death.

In that moment I stopped feeling fear. Stopped looking at things like a game. Stopped telling myself that this wasn't real.

It was, and so was I. I was here, in this place, this time. I was alive.

My eyes drifted up, and I saw the first of the Geth crest the hill. It took aim as soon as it spotted me. Raised it's gun, and in that moment I finally understood what he meant. About being pushed, I mean. Because when you're pushed, killing's as easy as breathing.

"Shield Boost." My lips said unconsciously, and in an instant my omni-tool unfolded over my arm, flaring a balloon of pure blue light around me and restoring my shields to near full in a span of moments. In that time, the Geth had lifted his weapon and opened fire, but unlike before, without his friends, my shields dropped far slower. It gave me time. Time I needed. Time I used.

My hand dropped to my hip, wrapping around the grip of the Talon, lifting it and pointing it at the Geth Trooper. I didn't need to aim. An M-358 was a shotgun in the shape of a pistol. It had no range, and the spread was massive, but the Geth wasn't more than ten feet from me. I didn't need to aim, to brace, to prep.

I pulled the trigger, and in an instant the Geth's shields flared bright. I pulled again, and they popped like a bubble in the wind, and in that moment the platform staggered back. I pushed myself up with a Herculean roar and almost dived into the machine before it could recover, my open hand gripping it's collar like a vice and pressing the barrel of my shot pistol into it's soft undercarriage, before pulling the trigger a third time.

It's innards blasted out, leaving a hole the size of my head coming out it's back. I grabbed it in a hug, one arm through it, the other around, and pushed out past the rock that had protected me from the others. They opened up almost instantly, but the pattering of shells stopped at the corpse of their brother. In seconds I slammed into the nearest one, pressing the barrel of the Talon through and into it's stomach, past the barriers of it's shield and right against it's hull. The shotshell roared, kicking hard in my hand. I felt it up my arm, a hard jolt, and then the platform literally ar the chest.

It barely registered that one of the two remaining platforms had flanked me, and I dropped down, dragging the corpse shield with me as I rolled onto my back, maneuvering the pistol in the direction of the flanker and pulling the trigger two more times, sending it back and I yanked my arm out and pushed the body on top of me with both feet as hard as I could. It flew, slamming into the stunned platform in a tangle of limbs before going down.

And then I felt it. I turned, still on my back, to see that the fourth Geth had closed in, it's weapon running hot, chewing up my shields, my gun overheated and useless. Solutions blew through my mind, and before I could even speak the words my omni-tool was pointed at the Trooper.

"Submission net!" I barked, and a flash-forged cable shot out of my gauntlet, expanding almost instantly into a spiderweb of wire-thin strands of titanium mesh that entangled the Geth, pulling taught and wrapping around it before exploding into a flare of lightning bolts, the blades of pure electricity coiling around the metal platform in a spectacular show of seizing shocks. Lighting coiled across it's body, sparking along the wires that sat inside, wrapping around it's limbs, coalescing into it's tubular head and detonating the glowing orb it used as an eye.

It fell bonelessly, dead or near to it, I didn't know. I folded up the Talon and drew the saber off my back, towering over it and firing three rounds into it's head at point blank. Dead or not, there wasn't a question now. I looked over to the last Geth, still struggling to hoist off the corpse of it's comrade. It's gun was bent, through. Damaged. Useless to it, but I wasn't stupid enough to believe it wasn't a threat.

I walked over to it, kicking off the dead body on top and crushing a boot into it's chest. One round into each of it's motivator joints left it's limbs shredded and inoperable, and I moved to finish it off. But I didn't want to shoot it. No, I was feeling vindictive. I didn't know if this was the one that shot me or not, but it was good enough. I folded up the rifle and set it back onto shoulder mount, instead reaching behind me to the utility pack on the suit, wrapping my hand around a piece of equipment my mind had latched onto for the job.

I didn't have an omni-blade. I didn't come with one. No, instead the fucker on the other end of the line gave me something a bit more... primitive. I fingered the handle of the brush-clearing machete that came with the suit. Eighteen inches long, with a wide brow blade, it was, like all military grade bladed weaponry, machine-hardened titanium and edged to a monomolecular point. It would do.

I smiled, and it wasn't a happy smile. It was the culmination of everything I'd had to put up with so far, from waking up in this fucking place and having to deal with that piece of shit to getting tortured, shot, nearly killed, and forced to play along despite the fact that I never asked for this, never wanted this.

So I pinned the Geth, it's head following my hand as it wrapped around the flashlight-like shell and held it steady. There were no words. I stabbed the blade strait into it's eye, all the way down to the hilt. My suit's augmented strength made it so that the blade went in without problems, leaving it buried up to the cross-guard. The eye flickered, and I twisted the blade to the side. The flickering died violently, and the whole of it's head was left shredded and empty when I pulled the machete back out.

I took a deep breath.

I felt better.

I took a shuddering breath as it all hit me at once, the rush, the adrenaline, the pressure, rolling over me like a hammer to the face. Looking around, I almost couldn't believe it. I slumped against a nearby tree, the thump of the armor vibrating through me as it hit as I stared at my arm, the same arm that had been all but destroyed not minutes ago by the Geth, now good as new. There were blood trails on the polymer at the joint, wet but almost invisible against the material. Proof that it had happened as I remembered it in almost vivid detail.

But the pain was gone. The injury was gone. It all came at once. I'd almost died. Fuck me, I'd almost died and this was just the first encounter, the first fight. What had happened? What was that, the feeling of wanting to do eight things at once, the sheer information overload, and how it froze me up, how it made me trip, how it had gotten me nearly killed. I didn't have any delusions about how I would have handled this level of violence. I wasn't a soldier. I didn't even like to fight, not really. The most violence I'd ever experienced came from a screen. I couldn't imagine it. Not this.

Never this.

"So, Mr. Finch, how did you enjoy your first taste of real combat? Nothing like the game, was it? Fast, brutal, in arms' reach the whole time... exhilarating, isn't it?" Him again. Not now, please. I was barely holding on as it was. I didn't need this.

"Not... not the word I'd use." I grit out, choking on what I wanted to say, wanted to scream at him, taking instead the time to chew that down. "What was that? It was... I tried to do ten fucking things at once and I almost got killed. It was like my brain couldn't decide what my body was supposed to do. Was that you, screwing with me?"

"Heh, no, Mr. Finch. That was all you. You panicked, lost focus in the heat of the moment. You brought that failure onto yourself. Glad to see you were able to recover, though." He said in a smooth, even tone. I couldn't help but get the feeling he was smirking at me, and I couldn't hold back a snarl.

"Bullshit. No way that was just me. Parts of me wanted to dive for cover, parts of me had instincts and reflexes that I couldn't direct. I was half out of sync with my muscles, like I was locking up."

"Now now, Mr. Finch. No need to get testy. I suppose the implant might have had a bit to do with it, but only because you let your mind scatter. The reflexes and skills imparted upon you by your gift are only as useful as you let them be. You freeze up, you panic, you lose sight of what your doing, and things are bound to get jumbled around in there. It worked as it was supposed to. You were the one that dropped the ball." Condescending fuck. And what was he expecting? For me to just... just ignore it? Charge in without a thought in my head and push on without a moment's hesitation? I wasn't a fucking robot. It just didn't work that way.

Not that I said it.

I focused, my previous line of thought derailed at it's head. There would be time for a total freak out later. Right now? Shit, I don't even know.

"So what was that?" I said, forcing myself off the topic. "That voice, the girl. Care to explain?"

"Ah, so you finally set her off, did you? I was wondering when you would. My dear, would you be so kind as to introduce yourself?"

"Of course, Director. I am the networked virtual intelligence T.I.N.A., here to offer service and assistance to the user of the Mark IV Terminus-class Powered Support Chassis. My role is to monitor the user's vital signs and apply medical assistance and tactical advice where necessary, as well as direct and control the various subsystems within the suit. It is a pleasure to meet you, designated user Jericho Finch." The words echoed through my helmet, Tina's voice soft and almost melodic compared to the prick she called the Director, which was as apt a name as any for him.

"T.I.N.A., huh?" I said more than asked as the four letters appeared on my HUD, before moving to above my expendables indicator. "So, what's it stand for and why didn't you show up earlier? Bit late, weren't you?"

"My apologies, User Finch. I cannot explain my lack of presence, as while the control nodes for my processor existed within the suit since it's creation, I was set to standby mode until the appropriate command authorization came through. As it was, the command override was issued shortly after you were injured, and while it was not advisable to introduce myself at that time, I was forced to take steps to ensure your safety." She paused, giving me a moment to take that in. It made a sick kind of sense, that. And I didn't need two guesses to know who sent the command override, nor did I even care why he waited so long. I was already getting used to the fact that the 'Director' was a grade of asshole I'd only thought I'd seen.

"I suppose that makes sense, then, doesn't it? And I assume you had a reason for holding off on telling me?" The accusation in my tone was cutting. It wasn't a question.

"Now now, Mr Finch. What have I told you about your tone?" That fucker had the propensity to _laugh_. "But yes, I did. I hadn't assumed you would need a babysitter so soon. I was apparently mistaken."

"Asshole." I grit out, but he just laughed harder. Instead I turned my mind away from the Director and back to the suit's VI. At least I assumed it was a VI. "Anyway, so, back to my previous question. What does T.I.N.A. stand for? I assume it's an acronym, right?"

"Correct, User Finch. T.I.N.A. is the shorthand name for Tactically Integrated Neural Assistant. I am the VI associated with the Mark IV Terminus-class Powered Support Chassis. Pleased to meet you, User Finch. I hope our association is a pleasant one." She said with a happy(?) lilt to her tone. I assumed it was happy, but from what I remembered about VI's in general told me they usually didn't have the capacity for real emotion. For now, though, it wasn't worth pondering.

"Right then. Good to know." I stood, looking around. I was alone for the moment, but I doubted it would last. The Director didn't seem like the type to let me slow down, not as it was, and deep down I really didn't want to give him a reason to set off that pain switch of his again. I didn't need a prompt to get moving.

This time I drew my rifle, letting the implant train my hands on it by reflex without thinking about it too hard. I had to at least try to avoid another freeze up, and that meant keeping myself in check. Getting caught off guard again could be lethal. This time should have been, were it not for grace and luck, and I wasn't eager to repeat.

Before I moved on, though, and at Tina's prompt, I pressed my omni-tool against the damaged section of my chest plate, letting the micro-fabricators do their thing and repair the damage to it and to the polymer on my shoulder. The games always made that automatic, but in truth it wasn't so simple. The fabricators could fix the damage good as new, but it required time and focus to do it and it ate up omni-gel like nothing. Still, it was better than just leaving my breastplate pitted from the Geth munitions, so that was something, at least.

Still, it was worth noting. Pro tip, don't get shot. My medi-gel supplies were down one unit from Tina's timely rescue of yours truly, and for good cause. In the game it just refilled the red HP bar on the screen when you used it, but in reality is was so much more. The idea of medical nanomachines didn't really click until they mended a destroyed bone good as new in a matter of seconds. No wonder you could be inches from death, literally, and then be right as rain with a shot of the stuff in game. It was... I don't even know. Amazing is a good word.

Unreal. Medi-gel. Like red potion, but better. The thought brought a smile to my face.

It did it's job. I was alive and functional. I had to get moving. I raised my rifle, noting that on the side of the grip was a small, almost unobtrusive switch. With a press it flared the omni-bayonet into existence, and with another, made it vanish. That was going to be useful, and I made a mental note of it. It also had a couple of rings for a strap on the barrel, something I made use of by fabricating one and hooking it on, letting the rifle hang as opposed to locking it onto my back. Useful things, omni-tools, and with that it would shave precious seconds off drawing and aiming the rifle.

That in mind, I started digging my way through the brush. Finding Geth wasn't hard. Fuckers were everywhere, and it wasn't hard to slip around them even in my armor. Most were just patrollers, but I saw a ten man kill team here or there. Took care to avoid those as I could, and it mostly worked.

Mostly.

"Shit!" I bit off a curse as the whine of Geth fire peppered the fallen tree I'd dived behind when another patrol had crossed paths with me, the mass accelerated rounds chewing into the soft bark above my head with a meaty thumping, pinning me down.

Rifle in hand, I lay there insensate while the shots ran hard and long, all four of them opening up with reckless abandon. None moved to cover, why would they? They felt no pain. It was a blessing and a curse as I popped up, this time letting instinct take over as I drew a bead on the first one, it's weapon cooling in the air as I pulled the trigger once, and then again, both rounds hitting it's barrier and stopping short, before ducking back down as fire filled the air again. The Saber had power and armor penetration, a perfect combination against almost everything, but it fell short on it's rate of fire and shield breaking, both of which were working against me as my rounds couldn't get past the glowing blue barrier around the platform I'd shot at.

Going back and forth, it was a case of me popping up to shoot at one of the Geth when it got too close and forcing it back before dropping back. This wasn't working, and I needed to either finish or disengage before another patrol showed up or, god forbid, a kill team found us.

I needed a plan. Or, failing that, a really big explosion.

I palmed a grenade, my omni-tool automatically coating it in a powerful magnetic sheath that would activate two seconds after it left my hand, which would then lock onto the nearest metallic source and latch on. Sticky Grenade indeed.

The next break in fire I lobbed it in the same general direction as the nearest of the four platforms, not even looking to see if it caught. I didn't need to. They were the only thing made of metal and they were surrounded by plants. The grenade would latch onto them on principle.

The blast was more satisfying than sex.

I popped up and found the grenade had blown one of the platforms into nothing but a stump on legs, knocking another back and peppering the last two with shrapnel. I wasted no time and opened up, the hard pinging of the Saber cracking in the air as the first three rounds popped the shield of another Geth as it opened up on me, the fourth round lancing through it's shields and making it's plated chest disintegrate from a round specifically tailored to destroy armor.

I didn't stay to watch it die, moving to a nearby tree and breaking line of sight with the second platform while the third got to it's feet, moving out of the line of fire before it could kill my shields and letting them recharge on their own before popping out and opening up on the next, putting three rounds into it before dropping back, letting my rifle cool.

"Incinerate!" I shouted as I threw out my gauntlet, a ball of unstable plasma in the form of a flash-forged drone flying out and impacting the chest of the Geth whose shields I'd just dropped, blasting it with superheated napalm mixed with liquified ferrofluid, liberally coating it and taking it out of the action as it began to flail comically.

Neutralized, but I had lost sight of the last Geth Trooper. Shit. I glanced around, noting that I didn't see anything. Double shit. I raised my rifle and moved up, only to freeze as the sound of a Geth rifle spooling up right behind me. Tricksy fucker flanked me while I was killing his friend. Shit. SHIT!

I spun, knowing I would be in it well before I could get a shot off. It was then that I heard the report of a rifle, and the Geth's head simply ceased to be. I spun back, rifle coming up only to find myself face to face with a barrel. A barrel that belonged to a Spectre Gear sniper rifle. A Spectre Gear sniper rifle in the hands of Nihlus Kryic.

I froze, and let my gun drop, hands going up in the process.

"Well well," He said in an earthy tone, eyes crinkling with amusement as he pressed his weapon against my head, "Isn't this interesting. So tell me, what are Hegemony Special Forces doing on Eden Prime?"

In that moment my gut dropped.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Chapter one part three is a go. I noticed that I'm having an odd formatting error with the first line of the chapter. Going to see if I can't figure out why. Till then, enjoy the show, folks!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1 Part 3<strong>

Tenuous at Best

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><p>"So, today really isn't going my way." I said almost to myself as I stared down the inordinately long barrel of a high-power sniper rifle. Going ahead and saying it right now, I knew, just knew, that despite my armor and shields being at full, at that range, with that gun, it would be just as useful if I were naked. Comforting thought.<p>

Yeah.

"Oh? Having a bit of a rough go of it, huh?" Asked the Spectre almost playfully, rifle not budging an inch. I could almost feel his amusement, which, all things considered was a good thing. It meant he was less likely to shoot me just on principle. Hopefully.

"Well, yeah, I mean, here I am, minding my own business, when out of nowhere the ship I'm on gets blown out of the sky and I get tossed quite happily into a forest. This forest, in fact, and I land through grace and luck be it, alive and relatively unharmed, where summarily I get assaulted and nearly killed- multiple times I might add, by the equivalent of the galactic bogey man-" I wound up, before Nihlus interrupted me with a snort.

"Galactic _what?_" He said with a raised eyebrow... ridge... thing, his tone a bit incredulous.

"Term of phrase. It's a human thing. Not really important, right? Anyway, so here I am, getting my ass shot off by the Geth-" He interrupted me again.

"You know that these are Geth? I'd've thought that bit of history was too obscure for you 'humans'." Oh I could just feel the sarcasm in his tone. I don't think he believed me.

"I just... gah. Yes, I paid attention in history. It's not that- look. Also unimportant. Long story short, I get shot, shot at, beat up, thrown around, almost killed again for the fourth or fifth time today, and now I have a Turian pointing a rifle at my head accusing me of being a member of the four-eyed slaver club. It's just... kind of a bad day, okay?" I did my best to sound more exasperated than pants-shittingly terrified, really. I don't really feel I succeeded.

"I can see that. I mean, I don't really believe you but yes, it does sound like you're having a bit of a rough run of things." That wasn't promising. Okay, so, yes, might get shot. New approach.

"Now, I can see how this could be a bit convenient. Strange bounty hunter, surprisingly well armed and armored, showing up out of nowhere looking like a what was it? Hegemony-" He cut me off _again_. This is getting old.

"Hegemony Special Forces. Yes. Are you saying you aren't?" There's that eyebrow ridge again. Now, I'm not one who was really all that well equipped to read Turian facial ques, but I was getting the odd suspicion he wasn't believing me.

"I am indeed, mostly because I'm not a Batarian. I have two eyes and no more. Promise." I gave a nod, hopefully positive. It wasn't. I got very very still when I saw the... smile... I guess, looked like, falling off his face.

"Maybe. Remove the helmet." It wasn't a request. I complied, slowly. Left side, right side, neck, spine and neck, and then slowly, very slowly, pulled it off and hung it on my armor.

"See? Legit. Just two eyes." I grinned, sweating nervously. The gun didn't drop an inch.

"So I see. Interesting that you would be geared like one, though. Terminus-class armor is unique to Batarian State Arms, issued only to their special forces operatives. Never sold. Not through legitimate channels, and not for cheap. It raises the question as to how someone claiming to be a mercenary got his hands on it, doesn't it?" He said, taking a step back and moving around behind me. I tried to keep him in my line of twisting slightly but stopping when I felt the barrel against my head again.

"Well, you see, there's a bit of a story to that-" I said, haltingly.

"I'm sure. Short version, and please make it more convincing than most of what you told me." His voice was deadpan, and I had the feeling that I was getting dangerously close to a swift but lethal end.

"Now, look, if you don't like what's the truth-"

"I could just shoot you." I heard the clicking of a safety going off.

"Or! Or, we could just keep on talking till it makes sense to you. That's reasonable." I sweat harder. "Now see here, I'm just an honest man, here on honest work what got dragged into a bad situation. I hunt bounties, one of them took me here and it's turning out to be kinda shitty all around. I don't know what it is that you want to hear, but that's the truth!" It really, really wasn't.

"I see. And the armor?" He nudged me with the gun, getting my tired arms back up into the air. Again.

"Truth is I sank every credit I had into this armor. I only just got it a few weeks ago and I haven't even broken it in yet. I got tired of getting holes put in me on the job, so I scrounged and saved and stole and finally managed to piece together the credits I needed to get the best you can. Two years of digging through muck and mud and filth, taking whatever I could find. It wasn't easy, it wasn't pretty, but it was a goal and I made it so you know what, fuck you if you don't like it. I personally don't care. I'm broke. I needed this job to be able to eat and that's been blown to hell and gone thanks to these fucking tin cans. Happy?" I snapped out. You know, I'm not really an angry person but damn if the stress wasn't starting to get to me. I mean, yeah, I was probably going to have to pay for the tremendous amount of bullshit I was shoveling here, but flipside? Good chance he was going to be dead in just a bit. The trick was getting him that way before he shot me.

He held silent a moment, and then I found myself almost deafened by the report of his rifle going off right next to my head.

"Fuck!" I shouted, hand jumping to my ear as I staggered, the heat from his gun washing over the sensitive flesh and the shock from the noise leaving me dizzy and disoriented. I felt gloved talons dig into the gorget of my armor, and in that second I'd thought he was going to drag me down and shoot me dead.

My heart jumped into my throat, and I almost gagged from the force, staring up in a slight daze. It was then, in that moment, that the tree next to my head disintegrated under a hail of blue bullets that I'd realized Nihlus had dragged me down behind cover instead. I looked at him and he looked back, and in that moment I knew I'd dodged the bullet, at least for the moment. I didn't have any illusions about convincing him of anything, but for now there were greater concerns than what I was doing here.

More Geth munitions peppered the rock he'd crouched behind as I moved up next to him, grabbing my helmet and snapping it on, the interfaces booting up instantly as they linked into my armor. My hand wrapping around the grip of my Saber, cocking it with practiced ease as I spared a glance to the Spectre, nodding his lead, and readied myself.

"You see? You see this? This is my day." I groaned out piteously, giving off a loud sigh as Nihlus popped around the edge and cracked off a shot. He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Is this really the time for self-pity?" He asked, and I shrugged, poking around the edge of the stone cover and cracking off a couple of blind shots before diving back, the section of stone I was behind disintegrating slightly from all the combined fire.

"What, you have a better idea? There's a damn army of those fuckers out there." I bit back. He gave off a sharp laugh in response.

"I doubt it. Can't be more than ten, fifteen total." He paused, popping around to take another shot with his rifle. "One less, anyway. I'm going to go circle around and see if I can flank them. Stay here and draw their fire." He said before dropping down and moving towards the edge of the stone.

"Right wait what!?" I swear my neck cracked from how hard I turned to look at him. I don't know if he could tell I was glaring at him but I tried my god damndest to transmit that thought to him.

"Don't tell me the big bad 'bounty hunter' is scared. Tell you what, if you live, we can finish our conversation on a more even keel. Till then, best of luck!" And with that he was gone. Fuck. Fuck.

"FUCK!" I swung around and sighted a Geth trooper, pulling the trigger once, twice, again, and then diving back as every fucking platform on the field opened up on me. My rifle was already cooling, venting out the heat buildup with a burning hiss, but it made no difference. Two hits and a shot wide wasn't going to help. I palmed a grenade.

"Tina, you there?" I asked, activating the Sticky Grenade function and chucking it wide hand over the side of the edge. A rewarding ring of metal on metal told me it hit something, and the explosion was infinitely satisfying.

"I am, User Finch. I should inform you that you're currently suffering from elevated stress levels and high blood pressure. I advise calming down." My suit's VI responded, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, no. Not really a huge concern. Look, I'm being shot at by the Geth. I think Nihlus just left me to die. I'm having kind of a bad day and I really could use a plan here, alright?" I snapped out, once more blind firing over the side. Not an effective strategy but hopefully discouraging enough to buy me a few seconds time.

"Active Tracking Scanners show that target designate 'Nihlus' is still on the field. ATS is also picking up several Geth contacts, including one large profile body. Data suggests possible heavy weapons soldier. Rockets or suppression weaponry may be on the field." Oh that's just fucking _perfect_.

"Lovely. I have Robo-Heavy Weapons Guy baring down on me and the Spectre runs off to play hide and seek." I muttered to myself, "Tina, do I have a radar?"

"Not as such, User Finch. The Mark IV Ter-" I cut it off.

"Just call it Terminus armor, please." I snapped out, swinging around. Three, then four rounds later a platform dropped, along with a not insubstantial chunk of my shields in the process.

"Order confirmed. As previously stated, the Terminus armor comes equipped with an advanced array of situational monitoring equipment. I am able to interpret the data provided to create a detailed battlefield picture. This allows me to accurately advise the User on changing battlefield situations." She said, pleasantly. I scowled.

"But I don't get a radar? I want a radar. Give me the radar."

"I must advise you that due to a lack of actual internal radar processing the battlefield image may not be wholly accurate-"

"I don't care just do it!" I snapped out as a Geth platform circled around the opposite side of my cover. I caught it just out of the corner of my eye, barely, and thumbed the activation node of my bayonet. In an instant a glowing orange blade twice the length of my forearm flashed into being and I slammed the weapon whole body strait into it's chest, lifting it into the air as I thrust upwards, gutting it and pulling back.

In that instant, a two-dimensional orb flickered into existence on the bottom of my HUD, and I felt my heart drop into my gut. The Geth were right on top of me.

"Shit." I mumbled, and did the only thing that came to mind: I ran.

The twenty feet between me and the next cover felt like a mile as I dived for it, feet pounding as my shields disintegrated, even with Shield Boost active, under a hail of gunfire. The few shots that penetrated hit like a mac truck, pounding into the thankfully thick plating on my back but not enough to get through.

By the time I managed to get behind the next nearest cover (a hill, barely waist height but good enough) my armor had dropped 12%. So much for being new and pretty.

"Might I suggest a course of action, User Finch?" She asked in the same pleasant tone as before. Fuck, that was going to get annoying.

"Yes. Yes you can. Right now, actually." I popped up to fire and oh shit Geth Destroyers are way bigger than they were in the game. I dropped back down.

"I would advise tossing a Cain Mine towards the enemy, and then detonating it remotely. The blast radius is significantly greater than that of a standard M-88 hand grenade and is more effective against clusters of enemy units." Oh. Oh good. I would question why I needed regular grenades then, but as it turned out Cain Mines needed a lot of explosives to make.

I ended up having to flash-forge all three of my remaining grenades together into a pound block of C4, but if it worked I would be fucking golden.

"Okay, so got the Mine. Where's the detonator program?" I thumbed my omni-tool, flicking it on.

"Cain Trip Mines lack a remote detonator. Shooting it with a Concussive round would provide enough of a charge to prematurely detonate the explosive." Oh. Well that makes sense. You know, because it's never fucking easy.

"Awesome." I palmed the mine into my good hand and readied my rifle, my omni-tool charging a round with the unstable magnetic burst that would cause it to detonate like a ball of pure force. The Geth were already closing on me again, the half-minute it took me to put this little catastrophe together costing me precious life-giving time.

I tossed that bitch like a pro, full overhand swing with a beautiful arc and in one swift motion lifted the rifle to my shoulder, sighted and fired.

I missed fantastically.

"Fuck!" I shouted as the enhanced shot went wide, sailing past as the glob of C4 hurled on over the heads of the nearest Geth. I cursed hard as one just reached my cover and began firing at me over it. I shot up, bayonet on, and jammed it into the Geth's chest with as much force as I could muster, grabbing it and holding it in front of me as I clumsily started to back away from the hill.

It wasn't helping. The body cover I'd been hoping to use was steadily disintegrating under the hail of constant fire of more than a dozen Geth troopers, several of the slugs finding weaknesses in the carapace of the platform and punching through to ping off of my shields. I beat feet as fast as I could, hoping I wouldn't find the one root that would drop me on my ass and get me killed while running backwards, hauling a dead Geth with me as a makeshift cover and very vocally cursing Nihlus, Geth, Mass Effect, God, and generally anyone else that I could for letting me get into this fucked up situation.

And that's when I noticed it. My HUD had marked the Cain Mine with a tracker, a reasonable precaution so that I wouldn't accidentally forget where I put it and wander into it's proximity detonator, though in this case it was doing the strangest fucking thing and coming back for me. Now, seeing that caused my mind to hiccup for a moment as I tried and failed to make sense of it. The sensor hadn't activated yet, no, and as my HUD tracked it I noticed that it had a countdown timer pinging away over it's reticule. A timer that had all of three seconds left on it.

As I looked back at the crowd, I finally saw it. Apparently, in it's flight it had hit the chest plate of one of the trooper platforms, smattering against it like a ball of sticky tack. For whatever reason the platform didn't remove it, instead favoring shooting me over pulling the explosive off it's body. Now, reason stands, when you have a bomb stuck you removing it is usually something of a priority. Especially if said explosive is equipped with a laser trip wire.

This is because, no matter where it's pointing, as soon as it flicks on, the slightest movement is going to set it off.

The Geth learned this lesson a moment too late as the sensor flickered on with a whine and a beep. The trooper had a moment to look down at itself almost comically, it's head tilting to the side in just that special WTF way, and then it ceased to be. In fact, it and eight of the Geth around it summarily ceased to be.

The fireball was _glorious_.

Knocked me flat on my ass, too, as the trooper corpse in my arms crumpled from the force of the proximity mine going up like a small nuke sent it flying out of my arms and me skidding across the ground. Whatever magic held the suit together kept the pressure wave from the explosive from liquifying my squishy innards, it didn't stop me from hitting the ground hard enough to flip over, leaving me feeling like one big bruise.

Still, the Geth were mostly dead, and what few weren't were clearly laid out, so... win? I had a great deal of satisfaction at this point.

I had it right up until the point where the long lost Destroyer walked up and kicked me square in the ribs, in fact. Then I had **pain** as I felt some ribs go crack. It left me dazed and stunned, rolling over across the ground before slamming into a tree, my back screaming as it bent in a way it definitely shouldn't have before I fell chest first onto the hard dirt. Gagging, I twisted my hear to get a look at the Geth that was stomping over to me, and it looked _pissed_. One of it's arms were just gone, a shredded stump where the shoulder should have been, and a gaping hole in it's chest cavity told me all I needed to know.

How it was still functional was anybody's guess, but in that moment I didn't really care, as it raised it's leg up and brought it down hard on my already abused back. The air in my lungs left me as it crushed down my diaphragm before lifting it's leg again and bringing it down, hard. Again, and again, I couldn't stop myself from puking into my helmet from the force, trying to pick myself up and failing as it beat me half to death.

Were it not for the armor, I likely would have had my whole ribcage crushed in, but even with it my bones felt like broken glass and my insides were likely not in their individually wrapped baggies any more. I could hear Tina's voice shooting off a dozen different warnings while dosing me with medi-gel but it was all noise covered by the sloshing of blood in my ears.

And then I felt myself leave the ground as the Destroyer lifted me bodily off the ground by my neck, it's singular eye staring into mine as it began to squeeze, cutting off my air and making my neck pop. Darkness was wrapping around the edges of my vision. I didn't even have the presence of mind to try and fight back. Dazed, stunned, beaten, now dying, all I could do was grip weakly at the hand of the massive Destroyer, scraping ineffectually at it's arm as it lifted me almost a foot off the ground.

Then it's arm was blown clearly in two with the roar of long-lost Nihlus's rifle, dropping me to the ground where I fell to my knees, gagging as gasping. A second round roared out, blowing through the platform's chest, sending white blood and circuits scattering across the field before a third shot caused it's head to cease to be. It stood, armless, gutless, headless, for just a moment, before toppling over dead while the report of Nihlus's rifle picked off the survivors from the mine detonation.

"About fucking time." I couldn't help but croak as I depressurized my helmet and pulled it off. A torrent of unpleasant things fell out when I did while a spray of omni-gel coated it, cleaning off the gunk and repairing the rest. I dragged an arm across my mouth, trying to get the taste of vomit and coppery blood out while I shot myself with more medi-gel.

I watched as the Spectre made his way over to me from behind a nearby hill, calm and pleasant as you please. I glared at him and scowled.

"What fucking took you?" I snapped out, snarling at him as I shook the last of the dissolved gunk out of my helmet.

"I would have been set up sooner but someone shot me with a concussive round and knocked me into a gulley." He snarked back with a grin. Oh, so that's where it went. "Besides, you seemed to have it under control. Well, up until that last part. Cain Mine. Clever." His voice was oddly neutral at that. No sarcasm. No approval either.

"I try." I snorted. "Fucking Geth." Nihlus seemed to nod in agreement, collapsing his rifle and retrieving mine off the ground.

"M-99 Saber with Bayonet. Violent, but effective. Earmarks of the Terminus. You live up to your story well, bounty hunter. Resourceful too. Dangerous." He shouldered it, and glanced down the barrel, looking down the sights and turning it towards me. I suddenly got very, very still.

"I don't entirely buy your story, bounty hunter, but I do believe you're a mercenary. Understand, I don't trust you, but I do trust that you like money, and that's good enough. I'm giving you an option. You can work for me, for good pay, and stay where I can keep an eye on you, or I can shoot you. I can't leave you to wander around here, but I don't believe in wasting a potentially useful resource. Do you understand?" He asked in a pleasantly neutral tone. In that instant I knew, without a doubt, that he could shoot me without a care and be on his way if he wanted to and not bat an eye. Staring down the barrel of that gun, I knew it, and he knew I did.

"Not much of a choice, but yeah. I hear you." I finally said, putting my helmet back on and sealing it. Still smelled a bit but fuck it. I could wash it out later. If there was a later.

"Good. I'm linking you to my omni-tool." He said, and suddenly the waypoint on my HUD changed. Interesting that he could do something like that without my prompt. Once done, he tossed me back my rifle, which I strapped back over my shoulder and let hang in easy reach. I glanced at my counts while he lifted his omni-tool to his ear. No grenades, two medi-gel, eighteen omni-gel and I haven't even been down here for an hour. Great.

"...found a bounty hunter wandering around." I turned to him when I heard him talking. Probably radioing in to Shepard what he found. I couldn't make out what was being said on their end, but Nihlus was fairly clear when he responded.

"I don't, but he's a mercenary. He'll do what he's told if he paid. Needless to say, if you run into him and I'm not around, shoot him." I tilted my head at him, and he grinned cheekily back. Hm. That complicates things. But... hm. Actually, maybe not. He's assuming I'm lying about something already. I could... I could use that, actually. Assumptions are the mother of all fuck ups, after all, but in some ways it makes things so much simpler. He assumes I'm bullshitting, but he doesn't know what it is I'm lying about. I can play to that. Okay.

"Thanks, Dick." I sneered back, too low for him to really hear but he looked at me anyway. I just palmed the handle to my rifle and glanced in the direction of the waypoint as he closed his omni-tool, coming up behind me and pulling out his assault rifle.

"You're quite welcome. Just in case you had any thoughts about shooting me in the back. Now lets go. Daylight is burning." He said in that casual tone of his. "You lead."

I sighed, and lifted my rifle, moving forward with one eye on the radar (which was more a glorified motion tracker, really) and another on watching the woods around us. No more ambushes today, not if I could help it. Two were enough.

It was with that thought that I wandered once more into the brush, this time with a trigger-happy Spectre right behind me.

I reiterate: Why couldn't ever be easy? Why could it just never, ever be easy?


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: For those who might be interested, this is actually a re-edit of the original chapter posted on Spacebattles. Before I brought it here, I had something like 6-7 chapters all written up, but as I went over them, I noticed that they needed... polish. A lot of it, so I've been trying to make them better than they were. I think this one came out rather well in that capacity. Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1 Part 4<strong>

Uncomfortable Truths

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><p>It didn't hit me until Nihlus and I began moving in almost ballet-like tandem that I had stopped thinking about where I was, how I got here, what I was doing. When the bullets started flying the first time, all I could think of was how unreal it all was. How... how obsessed with the fact that this couldn't be happening, wasn't happening, that it was all some delusion or fever dream. That I was in a game and that I couldn't be, because this was the really real world and these kinds of things didn't happen. It was this big, huge, monumental thing that sat at the edge of my mind and thrummed with every step I took.<p>

But now it was gone.

As the two of us dismantled a patrol of Geth it hit me that I had lost that feeling, if only for a moment. We were graceful, lethal, dropping out of the brush literally on top of the four troopers, my rifle cracking with a steady snap while his drummed like a snare. My finger moved with practiced ease against the slim metal of the trigger, my hands guiding the heavy rifle into the nearest center mass of an enemy, going one two three four, into it's chest and sending it to the ground, dead as Nihlus moved onto the third. At this range, when we hit, I just flicked on the bayonet and charged, cutting through the short burst of Geth fire and skipping it's barriers altogether, gutting it and dropping it.

Perfection in a single brutal strike, leaving four corpses and a small feeling of satisfaction where I'd initially felt fear, panic, hate, rage, and anxiety in a dozen different flavors. Here, now, I had none of that. I felt nothing but some odd sense of joy, or victory.

I was... detached.

I glanced down at the weapon in my hands, bayonet glowing and front of my gun coated in the white hydraulic blood of the Geth I'd impaled and I found myself wondering just what that implant was actually doing to me. It was... terrifying in a way. It made me better, a more efficient, more lethal killer, injecting me with skills and instincts that took a normal man and made him a monster. And I was getting used to it. Slowly but surely, I was getting used to relying on that crutch to guide me as I fought to match Nihlus in action. I had to, because I knew on every level that if I started to slow him down, started to be a liability he would kill me.

But that didn't stop it from feeling _good_.

I didn't even know if that bothered me. Honestly, I don't think it did. These Geth were trying to hurt me, to kill me, and in return I tried to kill them right back. It worked out better for me than it did for them. The thought almost made me laugh out loud, and it bothered me far less than it should have that I just didn't care. Part of me wanted them dead. They tried to kill me, and so I returned the favor with vigor. It raised questions I didn't want to answer, and I shoved it down as I bounded after the lithe Turian.

Say what you will, but even with powered armor sending me faster and farther than I ever had any right to run, that little fucker could move. Like before, we slid past the larger patrols, now with heavy support popping up at an almost alarming rate, killing the few small groups we encountered quickly and brutally, and moving on. I'd picked up several more grenades off of the dead Geth, some of which had them and most of which didn't (which implied they had preferences, maybe? A thought for later.) while we moved, not really stopping except to hide from the kill teams.

We did run into some of the Geth exchanging fire with what I assumed were Alliance Marines here and there, pockets of resistance that were steadily getting mowed down, but Nihlus kept us pressing on, ignoring them. I want to say something about how it didn't sit right with me, leaving these people to die but realistically? We wouldn't do much good. Not against those numbers. It was a justification, I knew. Just bullshit to make me feel better, and honestly, if I was going to take the time to look deep inside, I knew there was a part of me that was glad we didn't stop. The question there was, however, was it because I was a coward, or was it because I was just so apathetic that I really didn't care about them? I knew myself well enough that the answer could have been either or. Maybe both.

Whatever. It wasn't a priority to me, and so I didn't bother to ponder it. I had spent years cultivating an almost palpable disdain for people in general. That I wouldn't care about the plight of what might well be groups of good, honest people didn't shock or surprise me. Live or die, it was vastly irrelevant to me personally. If it made me apathetic, or even misanthropic then so be it. I could live with that.

My entire life I had been... distant, I guess, from other people. I never really got along, never really connected well. I just never had the drive, the need to form those kinds of attachments. Never really got the whole emotions thing down. But I could fake it. I could fake that sort of thing long enough and well enough that you almost couldn't tell the difference most of the time. It was like my father always said; being a good liar takes two things. Confidence and eye contact. With those you could tell a person the sky was purple and they would check to make sure it wasn't true.

In another life, another place, I was an up and coming chef in a moderately popular restaurant. The pressure to perform in that field is enormous, and because of it, you got... conflict. If you had talent, you were a threat, and if you could play the game, climb the latter, the older, more established chefs got scared of you. Tried to sabotage you, make you look weak or incompetent, so you weren't a threat. I was. So I applied those lessons, all day every day in the cut-throat world of kitchen politics. Manipulate, study, learn, then use. Lie, cheat, steal, whatever it took. No holds barred, and the environment was outright vitriolic at best, but there was power in success.

It's what I knew. All I knew, really, but instead of losing your job, here, in this place, it was your life on the line. My life. There were few things I valued more, and none of them existed here.

I had no illusions about playing this like a fanfic, telling people I was what, a guy from the early 21st century who knew what would happen here because he played a video game? And they would just accept that after a moment of self-discovery or some such bullshit? Hah, no. If I was lucky, they'd just toss me for being nuts, and hopefully not out an airlock. It was a rational world after all, and that was the height of irrationality. Truth may be stranger than fiction, but more often than not, it was the rational fiction that was the more palatable option. No, there was no convincing anyone of the things I knew without a lot of careful gambling, lies, and hoping that whoever it was on the other end of the line plugged into my ear could make it happen.

I had a plan for that, too. We were coming up on the rail yard or whatever the hell it was, making good time despite our random encounters here and there. Every so often I could hear the distant clatter of gunfire, wondering if it was Shepard's team following up behind us, or if it was just some poor unlucky bastard on the wrong end of a Geth patrol. It could go either way, really, but it wasn't something I wanted to speculate on.

Meeting Shepard on whatever ground I might wasn't something I looked forward to. I would do it, because I had been ordered to at functional gunpoint, and when I did I would likely lie my ass off in the process, but it was necessary. It had to be done.

Still, just because I couldn't convince anyone of my origins didn't make my knowledge any less real. Or any less effective. I had ideas on how to pull off my bluff, ideas on how to manipulate the situation to my advantage, and I would do so because I could. Because I had to. Because I didn't care if I had to trample half these people in order to stay alive, because at the end of the day I really was just that self-centered.

The trick to it was actually quite simple, too. All I had to do was get the drop on Saren.

Like I said before, it's never so fucking easy.

It took us another eighteen minutes and two near miss encounters to clear the hilly overlook that Nihlus had met me in. I recognized it pound for pound from the game, from the sheds that sat off to the right to the platform that Saren shot Nihlus on. Inch for fucking inch it was an almost perfect replica from my memories, sans both Geth and Husks, though in the case of the latter I could see the corpses on the Dragon's Teeth off to the side, and boy wasn't that just so much nastier than it looked in the original game. I grimaced.

"Is it just me or does this just scream trap?" I said after a moment, and Nihlus looked back at me. I shrugged. "I always assume it's a trap. If it isn't I'm pleasantly surprised. If it is, well, better to be aware than not."

"Wise precaution." He said neutrally, glancing out across the field. I felt a nudge on my shoulder and glanced back at the Spectre. He motioned his head forward and I gave him an unseen glare. Should have just kept quiet. Now I get to be bait for the trouble. Lovely.

With a sigh I raised my Saber, keeping my eyes and ears open and glued between the area in front of my gun and the motion tracker on my HUD. It was pinging two, no, three contacts in the shed itself, but nothing moving besides. I would relax at that, except that Geth, being machines, actually could go completely motionless until they decided to kill you. I didn't want to tempt fate, for what it was, so I crouched low and moved quick, covering the fifty feet of open ground between me and the nearest cover, which happened to be the sheds, while keeping an itchy finger on the trigger.

I remembered that this place didn't have sniper Geth in the game, but having seen first hand that what was in game and what's reality fail to match up made me very, very wary. Last thing I needed was to get picked off by a platform with a Widow running across a field on trap springing duty. And yes, if memory recalled, there was a segment in the third game with Legion saving a Quarian in the Morning War while wielding said sniper rifle. It was at least that old, and I wasn't going to make the assumption otherwise.

Tensest thirty seconds of my life, but I made it there completely unmolested. My relief was palpable as I checked around and behind the sheds before coming back around and motioning for Nihlus, my rifle out and scanning the open field while he moved up past me and towards the ramp on the platform. I watched him slow down, dropping behind a crate at the edge of the dock and knew, right then, that the timer had started. I moved around the shed and hugged the edge of the platform as Nihlus stood, lowering his gun, and knew just who he'd come to meet on up there. Maybe getting the drop on Saren wouldn't be that hard, after all.

"Saren?" There was honest shock in Nihlus' voice when he spoke the word. Showtime. I slid up close to the ramp, low.

"Nihlus." And goddamn if that voice didn't send chills down my spine. In the game it had been cool, relaxed, confident. Cocky, but... human. Here, there was no emotion. It was ice. I had sometimes wondered if Saren ever felt bad about shooting Nihlus. In that instant I knew the answer was no.

"This isn't your mission Saren. What are you doing here?" More genuine confusion. In what little I'd spoken to the Spectre, he'd always sounded crisp, hard, confident. Not any more. Not here. This was going off the script, for him at least. It was worth noting, if nothing else. I had, before now, actually intended to let Nihlus get killed by Saren. His little radio message complicated things, but I was sure I could bullshit my way out of that. But in the time between then and now, I had had another idea.

An interesting idea.

"The Council thought you could use some help on this one." I heard footsteps, and glanced around the bend. Saren had just walked past Nihlus, not even sparing him a glance. It was almost poetic, watching Saren close the net, and Nihlus buying into it so perfectly. I was almost envious of how trusting he was. Especially considering he was a goddamn Spectre. You'd think paranoia would be part and parcel for the course.

Apparently not.

"I never expected to find the Geth here. The situation's... bad." There was that hitch. It was all coming to a head. I was surprised to find the conversation going word for word from the game, but then, maybe not. I was a ripple, but this was an ocean. I shouldn't be so cocky.

In that instant, I watched him turn away. I saw Saren turn, I heard him say the words. In that moment I knew it could go one of two ways. I knew I could change things right here and now. Or I could just let him die. Two paths. Two results. One I knew with certainty. The other? A question, but one with much greater potential. Risk and reward. The weight of things, the chance I'd take, especially with the 'rules' that bastard had set down for me... He'd said not to change things, but maybe, just maybe, I could still get my cake and eat it.

"Don't worry, I've got it under control." Saren palmed his handgun, and it went up.

"I'm sure you do." I said, and in that instant the world slowed down. Rifle up, I stepped out from around the ridge, and Nihlus turned at the sound of my safety going off. It was fast, so damn fast, watching Saren turn to me with that handgun, and suddenly so was Nihlus'.

"Drop your weapon, Bounty Hunter. Saren is an ally." The words out of Nihlus' mouth hit me like ice. I almost did as he said. Almost.

"Hell of an ally. Fucker was going to shoot you just then." I paused, not taking my eyes off the other Spectre. "Don't fucking point your gun at me. I just saved your miserable ass."

"Is that the line you're going to go with?" Saren's tone was cool as a damn cucumber. Totally even. I may have been detached, but this guy? Complete sociopath. But I knew that, didn't I? I always knew. Saren was a killer, through and through, one that was dedicated to his mission. Willing to sacrifice anything that might get in the way. He was about to shoot his... what, friend? Protege? In the name of what he felt had to be done without even blinking. I wasn't even a fly on the wall for him.

"I told you to drop it, mercenary. You get one." I grit my teeth. Nihlus was the wild card here. I had ideas on how to turn him. I knew I could. I had the meta-knowledge to do it, but in order to do that, I had to break Saren. It was a tightrope act that had the wire unraveling on both ends. It was too late to second guess now. I took the step out onto it, and now I had to make the walk.

"No, Nihlus. I really don't want to get shot by the traitor here." Neither of them budged, though Saren tilted his head a bit.

"Traitor? Coming from a Terminus rat?" He scoffed, and I cut him off.

"Yeah. I'm calling you a traitor, Spectre Saren Arterius. You're working for the Geth. Or rather, the thing in charge of the Geth." And in that moment I thought he was going to shoot me. In fact, I was sure of it, even as I saw the smallest possible crack form in his confidence.

"Sovereign, was it? Or maybe I should call it... Nazara." Like a miner I took a pickaxe to it full swing.

"I don't know what your talking about." Saren's growled words were barely audible. Just barely, but enough. Nihlus paused for only a second and glanced at him.

"I'm sure you don't. Just like I'm sure you aren't here looking for a certain... vision... maybe? Looking for a path to the Conduit? Don't know where it is, but that's not stopping you, is it? Playing puppet to the Reapers, just like your dear old brother. What was his name again? Desolas? Must be making his memory proud, picking up the banner where he dropped it when he failed at Shanxi." I snorted, and just for a second I saw such _rage_ on his face, before he smoothed it over. I didn't miss it, and neither did Nihlus.

"Saren? What's going on?" Nihlus began, gun wavering ever so slightly, and I knew I had to strike now, while the iron was hot.

"Last piece of the puzzle isn't it? The one thing you need to get the ball rolling. I know about your little company retreat on Noveria, for example. Still having problems with the bugs up there? Oh, and your little bosom buddy Benezia too. Maybe about your little project on Virmire? Any one of those, and more. Shame how you're going to fail, Saren. Just like brother did." I said with a grin in my voice, and with every point I saw a little crack form. One after another, like some crappy bond villain the thin veneer of bullshit he was trying to sell was cracking.

"Shut your mouth, boy. You don't know what you're talking about." He clipped at me, eyes narrowed. I just laughed.

"Don't I? You're wrong, Saren. I know all of your dirty little secrets. All of your hidden doubts. I can see it in your eyes. 'Will I fail? How can I? I worked too hard! It has to matter!' Pathetic. You lie to yourself, telling yourself you can go the distance, but I can see it in you. You lack will. You lack conviction." I couldn't keep the grin out of my tone, and just like that, I could see the dam break.

"How dare you, you insignificant piece of Terminus trash! Do you know what I've sacrificed!? What my brother has sacrificed!? You know nothing! Nothing! How dare you spit on everything I've lost trying to preserve the galaxy!?" He snapped, voice ripping across the field and in that instant Nihlus knew something was wrong. Suddenly his gun wasn't in my direction any more.

"Saren, what's he talking about? What are you talking about?" I watched as Nihlus started to raise his gun in Saren's direction. The Turian covered in cybernetics glanced at Nihlus and opened his mouth. I cut him off again. _This is more fun than it should be._

"'If you gaze long enough into the Abyss, the Abyss will gaze back at you.'" I paraphrased. "You don't really think your actions would go unnoticed, did you Saren? We know. We always knew. We've been watching you, and you've gone to far. Now I'm here to stop you." I hugged the rifle into my shoulder.

Nihlus watched on in interest as the thin veneer of Saren's calm shattered like glass. Saren, cold, cruel and calculating, a master planner and brilliant soldier, was always a bit of a hothead, so long as you knew the buttons you needed to push to set him off. I had assumed that he was under pressure when he came here. He thought it would be easy, thought it would be simple. But no, he had to kill his friend in order to protect his agenda. He was ready for it. Prepared to make that sacrifice.

But then here I come, knowing about his game on Noveria, on Virmire, about his ally and his ship and it's big secret. And then I hit him with a name that only he and the Geth should know. A name it was impossible for me to know. Yet I did. And then I implied that others did as well. And it was enough. Just enough. Barely. To crack the valve holding that pressure in. I took a risk. A gamble. Wagered an all or nothing bid on the fact that Saren isn't as strong as he pretended to be. Or as stable.

I rolled the dice.

I dug my grave, and I walked away.

Saren's first shot slammed into my shield like a truck. I mean, it physically sent me staggering a bit as the sheer pressure of the shot ricocheted off the reinforced barrier. That was when Nihlus sent a bullet flying at Saren, and I opened up in his direction. He fired again, and again, first at me, and then Nihlus, and then I saw him palm a-

"Grenade!" I yelled as soon as I spotted it, and Saren let it fly wildly, letting it detonate mid air in a blinding flash of light and sound that left me dazed and seeing afterimages as he slammed into Nihlus, bodily lifting the Spectre off the ground as he barreled past. All of a sudden I heard my motion tracker frantically ping fucking everything and in that instant gunfire started to roar. I felt myself jerk forward and saw that as my vision cleared Nihlus had rolled to his feet and grab me bodily, throwing me over the barrier wall of the loading ramp he was on.

I was still seeing spots when he turned and drew his rifle, opening up on a couple of troopers that came from the ramp that Saren had sprinted off to. I reached for my rifle, but it was gone. Probably laying on the platform somewhere, but that didn't matter. I reached down and felt my hand wrap around the handle of the Tempest. In a single motion it was out and roaring over the edge of the dividing wall, smattering against the shields of what had to be a dozen Geth as they opened up on our pitiful position.

"Shit! Shit! Plan!?" I snapped out, glancing at the Turian who had gone from confused to very, very focused in the few seconds it had taken for everything to go right to hell.

"Distract them and draw fire, I'll pick them off with my rifle!" He yelled over the gunfire as I flipped out and emptied my SMG into the nearest Geth before dropping back. The vicious crack of Nihlus' rifle, almost perfectly timed with my dropping back into cover blew over me, and were it not for my helmet it would have deafened me. I popped out again, and threw out an Incinerate with a wild arm. Hitting something was less important than actually getting it out there, at this point, but I still let rip with the Tempest as a follow up.

Another Geth dropped, and another. The sheer volume of my SMG was enough to keep them from getting adventurous but I lacked the concentration to punch through their shields entirely. I had to settle for saturation, but what was it that Stalin said? Quantity is a quality all it's own? Yeah.

"Grenade out!" I hocked the glowing little bastard hard and fast over our cover, which detonated with a satisfying boom. I flinched hard as the snap hiss of a wild ricochet clipped through a weak point in our slowly disintegrating cover, of which really wasn't rated for the amount of abuse it was taking.

"I don't think this is working!" I heard Nihlus snark as he popped another Geth. Honestly, it did seem like their numbers were fucking endless, though through luck, volume and precision we'd killed no less than five of them. I grabbed my Talon and shoved it over the edge of the crate to our side, cracking off a round into the face of a Geth that had snuck around us and up the ramp before letting rip with the Tempest again.

"No, no it isn't!" I shot back, and tossed another grenade. "Concussive Shot!" I pulled the trigger of the Talon while it was charged with an unstable magnetic burst, firing it in place of the usual short-range shot burst, catching two of the Geth in a sudden burst of force. Nihlus leaned over and popped one while I peppered the other with the M-9.

Truthfully, we were doing well, but I didn't need to be a genius to know that our guns were rapidly overheating. The Tempest was already on it's second cycle, and without the time to dump the heat it was getting hotter faster as time went by. Hopefully we could drop another three or four and I could risk finding my rifle, maybe get some breathing room. It was getting cramped in our little nine foot cubicle of space between boxes.

That was when I saw the Dragon's Teeth start to lower.

"Fuck! Nihlus, there! The spikes!" He looked where I pointed, and I could feel his audible groan. This... this was very, very rapidly getting complicated. I opened up on another Geth and almost dropped instantly when it turned out to be a goddamn _Destroyer_ with a goddamn _Spitfire._

Awesome. Awesome to the max.

"Here, can you kick down that explo-" He was cut off as the red canister of what I assume were volatile chemicals detonated with a very respectable fireball, washing both of us with heat and light. The worst of it had washed over above us, but the right crate and part of the wall was just gone.

"That would be a no!" I snapped out and let loose another Incinerate, catching a charging Husk in the chest and setting it ablaze like it was made out of kindling. The rest of it's buddies were closing in, and I took a risk and glanced over the edge, only to drop back as more fire ripped into what remained of our cover.

Then I heard the roar of a sniper rifle, and felt my stomach drop. Snipers would be just fucking icing on the shit-cake. Another roar let loose, and then another, and I risked looking over as I saw the nearest Husk pull an about face and start charging in the opposite direction. Looking over the railing, I saw that something had changed. The Geth were looking away, up the hill, changing priorities as it were. Nihlus was quick to take advantage and I opened up with him, and in that instant the distracted Destroyer died a most impressive death.

That was when I made out the figures on the hilltop, killing their way down while Nihlus and I provided as much of a nuisance as we could.

As it seemed, Shepard had finally arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: So, I may or may not have procrastinated over this for a couple of days. I blame working a hard, retail oriented job over the holidays, but you know what they say. Excuses excuses, heh. Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1 Part 5<span>**

The Hubris of Butterfly Wings

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><p>It started with a problem. Always does, in a way. But that is what it started with. I had a problem I needed to fix, and I needed a solution that was... workable, given the circumstances. Not perfect, but clever enough and that was what I needed. Flexible, but able to stand up to scrutiny. Broad, but easy to remember. Complex, but based on a simple thought.<p>

The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world he never existed.

Same concept, really. Same idea. Same application even. A lie at it's base, but mired in truth. Take a little deception, a touch of misdirection, a few dots and lines and viola, solutions come aplenty. My old man told me that the best liars needed two things: Confidence and eye contact. This is true, but even the best liars make mistakes. Details get mixed up. The mouth runs faster than the mind. They get drunk, or talk too much, or too little. Things happen. Suddenly the whole castle of cards comes crashing down, because at the end of the day, a lie is a lie. It's not real.

So how do you make it stick? How do you convince someone, then? How do you make a lie foolproof? It took me years of practice to figure it out, but in the end it's really quite simple. It's not about truth. It's about _belief_. True or false, if you make someone believe enough you don't need to lie. They do it for you. They make their own truth, and the only thing harder than breaking a belief is making the believer think they're wrong. Hell, some people go so far and so deep that even when they're faced with raw, undeniable proof they were wrong, they'll still fight it with everything they have.

It's really quite amazing.

The devil never needed to convince people he didn't exist. They just didn't want to believe it. Skepticism was the key, and they did the rest for him. It's an abject lesson of the purest kind. People believe what they want to believe, they follow the easiest path, the most "rational" path, and assume it to be the truth. Need it to be. I can't stress it enough, really. Assumption is the mother of all fuck ups. Always.

But there's more to it. A lot more. Belief is a thing that you need to nurture. Something you need to nudge along and grow slowly. Press too hard, and it shatters like sugar glass, press too light and it doesn't get the momentum it needs. You need the right application of direct and indirect influence to make people believe, because the first step, the first real step, needs to be taken not by you, but by them. They need to think the thought you want, and to make that happen, you need to know how to play the game.

Honestly, I didn't know if I would ever try to breach the subject of just where my actual information came from. I doubted I would ever need to, really. Talking about it was lunacy. Truth be it may, it was nonsensical. It didn't fit into a rational universe, and so all it would do was hurt my credibility. Nobody trusts the crazy, after all. But that didn't change the validity of my information. Just the source of it. So in turn I pondered an idea. If I could just get them to believe in the most logical rationale, I would end up not as part of the answer, but part of the question. It wouldn't be about "me" any more, and that was the important thing.

I could do it, too. In a way, I'd already started the ball rolling. I just needed to set the path it would fall and let it go full bore. Easier said than done, maybe, but a thinking man could pull it off. All you need is a plan. Well, a plan and the right level of raw gall and ruthlessness to see it through.

But I digress. Much of what I had in mind was part of the long game. I wasn't so much worried about the downtime as I was the rest. All the tricks in the world didn't make me bullet proof, which is what I suspect my unknown 'benefactor' had taken into account when he armed and armored me as he had. Even the implant, if he was to be believed, was intended to augment my physical prowess, not my mental acuity. That was left to me and me alone. What that said about what he knew, I can't say. The Director, as I'd come to think of him, likely had a history, maybe even a psych profile on me. Knew my strengths and my weaknesses, or so I thought. It was a safe bet, either way. Good if he doesn't, but better if he does. Anticipating it would protect me from being totally blindsided if the answer turned out to be yes, but some confirmation would be nice if I could figure out how to get it.

Knowledge is power, after all, and the man with the power makes the rules. The more he had to bring to bare against me, the worse off my position was no matter what foreknowledge I might have had.

I was vulnerable, AM vulnerable. I had a gun to my head, literally and figuratively, but I could handle that as long as I didn't let the details get to me. Be mindful, be wary, but don't be afraid, as the old adage goes.

I leaned against a squat crate as my eyes roved the battlefield, or rather, the remnants of one. Shepard's team had hit the Geth like a hammer, cutting through them with a vengeance while Nihlus and I wound up in an inadvertent pincer maneuver. What was a desperate game of King of the Hill turned into the perfect crossfire, splitting the Geth forces and their Husk allies and reducing the pressure to a much more manageable level. The rest was like clockwork.

I would drain shields with my SMG, and Nihlus would send the killing blow down field. Most of the Geth were out of cover, standing in the open, relying on pinning fire to keep us occupied while they swarmed us, but the addition of Shepard's team turned it into a shooting gallery. Say what you will about the "starter" weapons of the game, they did their job well when given the opportunity. Husks were only dangerous if they got close, and the Talon made short work of them. No shields, no armor, just skin and cybernetics. The shock trick might have been an issue but for whatever reason they wouldn't do it unless they had you in the open. Given that they had to run around our cover to get that way, I had more than enough time to hip shot the couple that managed to get past Nihlus's covering fire.

Even the Destroyers weren't much of a match between us. Like what happened to me the first time I ran into a patrol, we overwhelmed shields and armor under the sheer quality of quantity. Didn't help that they couldn't seem to pick which group to fire on either. Powerful weapons, powerful armor, yeah, but no organization. Trouble of being a walking democracy, I guess.

Still, now that the fighting was over I knew there would be... issues. You see, when I mentioned that problem earlier, I didn't mean the Geth, or even my information. No, my problem was more specific. My problem was Nihlus. In an ideal world, I would have missed the Turian altogether, met up with Shepard and spun some bullshit or another to get myself onto the team. That was the initial plan.

Then we would find poor Mr. Kryik dead as a boned fish, with more questions than answers and go from there. I didn't have any doubt about getting dragged along, if only to testify as to what I saw, but still, things would have been on track. I could have worked with that, played the game like it was supposed to be played, do my thing, save the galaxy and, with time, find the motherfucker that plugged this plate into me and gut him with my knife. Simple plans. The gods must have found that amusing.

Running into Nihlus threw all that out the window. The "plan" as it was suddenly needed a lot of revision, a lot of improvising, a lot of fast and loose, because things had become infinitely more complicated. In an ideal world I could let Nihlus get shot and carry on my way, but that introduced variables. With his little broadcast, there was the distinct chance that Shepard would just shoot me on sight if and when they found the dead Spectre, assuming it was me, or if not, possibly trying to take me into custody, which might well have been worse. It was true that letting him die and trying to meet up with them later might produce a viable solution, especially after they out Saren, but that left... details. For all that I knew it was far from precognition, and while I knew where they would go, I didn't have a timestamp for it. I could arrive too early, or too late, both of which would have been disastrous. It was safer in the short term but far more dangerous in the long term.

So I went with Option B. Save the Spectre. It was a risk, oh yes. There was the very real possibility that either would shoot me just on the principle of my pointing a gun at Saren, but no, instead they let me talk. Let me play the game. Saren was cocky and confident, but he had to be under at least a fair amount of pressure because of all this. The invasion, the attempted theft, and now Nihlus showing up out of the blue? This was the first step to finding the Conduit, and failing here would have cost him the game. But he had it under control. Nobody knew he was here, or even why. No witnesses and no evidence.

But then here comes some asshole he'd never seen nor heard of before, talking about things he couldn't know but somehow did, ruining his shot at silencing Nihlus and spilling all his secrets besides. So the question goes how? How does he know? Who else knows? More importantly, how did Saren miss it? No doubt he had some kind of information network helping keep him appraised of little things like massive security breaches, though that had obviously failed. But that wasn't what broke him. It was the Indoctrination that did it. From what I remembered, Indoctrination is a lot like fanaticism at the higher levels. Everything you know is right. It's all for the best reasons, and all of it was necessary. All of it, justified. You couldn't be wrong, so how dare this little mercenary shit talk down to you?

See? That's the real trick. It's not what you say, it's how you say it. Nothing pisses a fanatic off faster than making it seem like you're right and they're oh so wrong. It's like oil to a fire, only far more potent. Just that tone that makes it seem like you devalue their work. Deface it. Make their sacrifice seem unimportant.

It's like an overheating boiler. Take the pressure, then crack the pipes holding it in, and finally, break the valve. After that it's just decompression.

He was stressed, then challenged, then condescended to, and that was what got him. How dare I look down on him and his sacrifice, his _brother's_ sacrifice, just like that? No, he was going to beat the answers out of me and then kill me, was what he wanted. It was what he felt. What he needed. And the best part? The only reason I was able to break him was because he decided to throw in with Sovereign. It gave him a secret he wanted to hide, and nobody likes having their dirty laundry aired. He gave me the lever I needed to break the valve holding it all back.

Like I said before. Knowledge is power, and not just the technical kind. Know the person, and you can control them. Anticipate them. Gauge them. I had that. I knew these people, or at least their rough approximations and that was enough to be able to play them. Nihlus was the biggest risk just because he only lived through the first fifteen minutes of the game, but the rest? I'd spent a lifetime with them. I knew them, inside and out.

And they didn't know me.

I was sitting at the card table with everyone's hand on the deck while they didn't even know I was playing. Not yet, anyway.

I was cleaning my rifle when they walked up to me. Once all the shooting had stopped, Nihlus had gone over to the team, probably to bring them up to speed on what was going on. I watched them, keeping my distance after I'd retrieved my Saber from a puddle of Husk goo and fabricated a cloth to wipe it down while I waited, sitting quietly. Two males, one female. Kaiden, John and Ashley, as it were. I'd heard a sniper rifle in the beginning, but given how anyone could use any gun, if not well, in the first game meant the door was open as to which Shepard it would be. I knew nothing about him, at least not until I could run an extranet search on his career. "Canon" Shepard was a Soldier though. Earthborn and Survivor. Could be applied to this Shepard too, but you never know. I didn't even know if he looked like his canon counterpart, really, but it wasn't important right now. Not compared to his inclinations. Paragon Shepard would be an easier sell than a Renegade one, if those contrivances held, but I didn't know. I could be patient though, and either way this wasn't the time.

Still, there was opportunity if one looked hard enough. Just seeing how he acted in the field would clue me in a bit as to how best to handle him. How he moved, how he spoke, how aggressive or patient he was, all useful details that would give me an eye into the man's head. Not a perfect solution, perhaps, but it is what it is, and as the old saying goes, beggars can't be choosers. That said, he wasn't the only one on the board.

Beyond Shepard himself, there were both Ashley and Kaiden to tangle with. Much safer than Shepard and Nihlus, given how they were more fleshed out in the series, though whether or not they were more or less approachable would rely more on how my first impression went. Unlike the game, I doubted these two would stay in their little cubbies in the interim and if all went to plan I was going to be spending a fair bit of time with them in an enclosed space. Not a good environment for anyone if we got off on the wrong foot.

Kaiden was friendly, I think, so long as you don't push his buttons and Ashley was not, not to non-human/non-Alliance types. At best, expect Alenko to be neutrally friendly, and Williams to be outright hostile. As for Nihlus? Well, I had something of a read on him. Some ideas. Nothing solid. Still, I saved his life. I could use that. I likely would have to.

I stood as they reached me. Show time.

"Story time over, then?" I let a grin seep into my voice. Gone was the shaky nervousness from when he caught me in the woods. I needed to play the part of the liar right now, and that would give away the game.

"So it would seem, bounty hunter. You lied to me." There wasn't any accusation in his tone. Curious. Say what you will about Nihlus Kryik, but he isn't stupid. He's already drawing his own conclusions. He just wants me to confirm them.

"Mmm." I conceded, looking at him. "Going to introduce your little friends?"

"You don't-" That was Ashley then, clearly as pleasant as I'd expected her to be. She was cut off just as quickly.

"I'm Commander Shepard. This is Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams. I understand you've been hired on by Spectre Kryik. Good to meet you." He held out his hand, and I blinked in surprise. That was... surprisingly diplomatic. Felt genuine too. So, paragon Shepard? Or is it an act? Hmm. Dangerous. I glanced at him, and then at his hand, before talking it gingerly.

"Finch. Bounty hunter. Pleasure." I said back, nodding. Alenko had moved to the edge of the platform and Williams was hovering just out of earshot. I glanced back at Nihlus. "And I didn't really lie, Spectre Nihlus Kryik. I just... omitted certain facts."

"Like how you knew who I was, and why you were here. Those facts?" Ah, dancing then. Slight accusation in the tone, but nothing overt. The Spectre was probing me.

"Amongst others. Truth be told I didn't think telling you I was here hunting your colleague was going to score me any points. The dossier I was given mentioned you two had a close relationship. I didn't want to risk you turning on me. Well, not then." It went unsaid that I didn't expect him to turn on me now.

"Still, it takes some nerve to go after someone like Saren. Especially given his reputation." Nihlus countered. I gave a small Mmm of concession to the point.

"Fair point, but then again, look at it from my perspective. When I told you I was destitute, well, that wasn't a lie. My benefactor was offering upwards of four million credits for Saren's head, and nobody is invincible. Besides, killing him is worth the boost in reputation alone. If you aren't afraid of a little risk it's actually quite the profitable venture, really." I shrugged. Long gone was the trepidation. It also helped that nobody was pointing their gun at me.

"And risk the wrath of the Spectres? Seems foolhardy to me." His tone was carefully neutral, but his body was relaxed, open. Interesting. I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, but like I said, right now we were dancing, and as it was, he had the lead.

I snorted with some contempt. "What you come to learn out in the Terminus is that while a Spectre is a dangerous thing, very rarely can one go anywhere without anybody noticing. You have a name and a face, and you make people nervous. It makes you noticeable. Me? I'm just another merc. I could disappear into Omega and nobody would ever find me. Change my name, change my face, invest a little here and there and viola, I'm a ghost. Besides, you're a Spectre. You know the life expectancy of someone in your profession. It's never a surprise when one of you gets taken out, because contrary to popular belief you're just as mortal as the rest of us." I grinned under my helmet and let it drift into my voice. "As I suspect you well learned today."

"Maybe." He glanced away, but I could tell that got to him a bit. "Thank you for that. I'm still having some trouble believing it. Saren, a traitor? It's... troubling." Heh, I bet. Bare in mind, Saren was his mentor, the person who brought him into the Spectres. This had to be a blow to the gut for him.

"I'm sorry, but who's Saren?" Shepard cut in, and in that moment I'd almost forgotten him. At this point he really wouldn't know, would he? Strange to think about, considering, but true, at least for now.

"Saren Arterius. Arguably the most accomplished Spectre in the business. Has a reputation for brutality and extreme violence. Generally considered a dangerous guy." I said, crossing my arms and looking at him. He seemed troubled, and I pressed on. "He's been up to something, recently. Something bad enough to make some people nervous enough to go after him. Hence, me."

"Speaking of, your information. Where did you get it? _How_ did you get it?" Nihlus asked me strait, his eyes boring into mine through the helmet. A very valid question, at least from his perspective. I suspect he's seeing it as a failure on the part of both the Spectres and the Council to not have any idea about this particular clusterfuck.

I paused for a moment, considering how I 'should' answer this one. "I suppose I could deign to share. It's no secret any more, not after this. The where is... well, I can't say. No idea. The dossier they gave me had mostly technical data, profiles on friends and family, possible resources and connections, that sort of thing. They were sparse on the details, really." I shrugged again.

"But the names? The places?" He asked, and there was a touch of impatience in his voice this time. Looks like the dance was winding down.

"Details from the dossier mixed in with a bit of pressure on my end. Despite my flippancy I wasn't about to jump onto this ship half cocked. Unfortunately all they could give me were names, places, tenuous connections at best but better than nothing. Tip of the iceberg stuff. Still, useful enough if you know how to use it, as you well saw." I said, shrugging.

"And that's all?" Nihlus was dubious at best, and Shepard was oddly quiet. Smart man, listening in on the details before trying to make sense of it.

"I could theorize. Popular thought is that Saren is working on some kind of high-level AI. The Geth are involved, after all, which lends credence to the theory. Curious thing, though. Why would he come here of all places? Eden Prime isn't exactly a mecca of scientific achievement." I said slyly, grinning with a sharp edge at the thought. "And then there's you. Spectre number two. Curiouser and curiouser, as we delve deeper into the rabbit hole."

"What...?" He started, but I just shook my head no. He rolled his eyes, I would suppose assuming it was another strange human idiom. That was when he looked to Shepard in something akin to shock. "Wait, you don't think..."

"The Beacon? It's... it would fit. But if that was the case then..." Shepard cut off, and I could hear his gut drop at the thought. Saren with control over a working Prothean beacon that could hold god only knew what was in the forefront of his mind. Clearly the conspiracy went deeper than just the Geth making a tech raid, and this played into that. My information gave credence to the idea that maybe the reasons behind this little invasion were bigger than they seemed at first glance, and both Nihlus and Shepard would be fools to discount it.

"Beacon?" I pondered with a raised eyebrow but Nihlus cut me off with a wave.

"We need to move. Spirits only know what might happen if that knowledge falls into the wrong hands." The cutting me off wasn't anything new, but it was still annoying. I could tell it was going to be a thing with him. Could just feel it. He looked straight at me. "As for the Beacon, it's not something for you to worry about."

"Oh ho. So, what, then?" I sounded more amused than annoyed. We both knew where he was going to go with this, but I had to hear him say it.

"You saved my life, and I owe you for that. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, for now. Same deal as before, money for work. Plus extra for... details. Fair?" He said as Shepard left to go gather his team. I simply nodded at that.

"And Saren? He's why I'm here and I don't price match on work. It's bad for my reputation." I said, still playing the role I'd found myself in. Nihlus looked at me tightly.

"I can't agree to handing him over if we take him alive. If we kill him, though, I can accept parting with the body. It's the best I can offer you." And that was surprisingly generous. Hm. I already knew we wouldn't get to him in time, regardless, so it made no difference to me.

"Agreed. Though, if we're going to be on our way, we might need to deal with an issue first." I said, and in a smooth motion drew the Talon and walked over to the nearby crates. I stuck my head over them at the cowering man behind them. Almost casually, I stuck my gun right into his face as he looked up at my cast shadow. "Eavesdropper." The man's hands shot up like lightning.

"How did you know?" Asked Nihlus casually. I tapped my helmet with my other hand.

"Motion tracker software. Shakes here lit up like a Christmas Tree." I flicked my handgun and he stood without further prompt. "So then, what have we here?" My voice was not pleasant.

"Hold on, what's going on!?" Snapped Shepard, running up to us, Ashley and Kaiden hot on his heels. I motioned at the man with my gun, and he cringed as he stared down the barrel.

"Found this one hiding behind some crates, listening in. One would wonder why, hm?" I smirked, and the man shook his head as fast as he could.

"Now listen, I didn't hear nothing. I was just hiding back here. You know, from the Geth? I just... didn't want to get mixed up, right?" I swore it sounded like he was going to piss himself. I chuckled at that, causing him to elicit a miserable groan.

"Finch, for God's sake, stop pointing that at him!" Shepard snapped, and I paused, looking at Nihlus. Technically I was his 'employee' right now. That meant I didn't need to do as the good Commander said. Nihlus nodded his ascent however, and I lowered it. He came out from behind the crate, inching past me and taking pains not to come too close, eyes never leaving my helmet. Weedy little bastard. I turned away once he made his way past, going to Shepard with grateful eyes.

"Thank you!" The man practically gushed as I stepped away. He was dressed like a dock worker. Slacks, heavy boots, light shirt with safety padding. Unshaven, too. If I recalled correctly, he was Conveniently Placed Witness Guy, the one with the grenades and associated mod. I knew the conversation, even if he was rendered largely unimportant by the simple virtue of Nihlus still drawing breath. I left him to stutter out his story to the Spectre-plus-one while I hoisted myself over the crate he was hiding behind.

"Hey. Hey! What are you doing, mercenary?" Snapped a mildly suspicious feminine voice behind me. Oh good, it's Ash. Joy of joys. I glanced back to see her marching over to me while Nihlus and Shepard spoke to CPWG, who was very studiously not looking over here at all.

"Oh, you know. Poking around crates for extra credits. You would be surprised how often you find something useful, eh?" I smarmed at her, "You know, like this?" I asked and wrapped a hand around the strap grip of a long, broad container covered in explosives warnings and Alliance symbols. I mean, come on, it wasn't even well hidden. Just half covered with a ratty old blanket.

I'd always wondered where that guy hid those grenades. I mean, clearly he didn't have them on him. I guess I knew now.

"Uh huh." She didn't sound very impressed. I cracked the seals on the box, eliciting a sharp glare from the Gunnery Chief, but that went ignored when I broke it open. Inside sat a fair few of the little disc-shaped remote mines you saw almost exclusively in the first game along with the more traditional canister-shaped explosives I had been collecting off dead Geth. Ashley turned sharply and stared at the dock worker with accusing eyes, and I took the opportunity to palm a small box-shaped item that sat in one of the far corners of the case.

No sense letting good mods go to waste, right?

"Mind explaining this?" There wasn't an ounce of happy in the good Ms. Williams' tone as she stomped over to the man. I tuned her out, silently glad she decided to bother someone else for the time being and proceeded to help myself to a few of each. I saw Kaiden eyeing me, but I just gave him a shrug and moved off after I'd filled up, taking the time to peek around the corner.

Unlike the game, which had a group of enemies just standing there waiting to be spotted, I found myself looking out at a whole lot of nothing. Maybe Saren didn't have the time to put together a welcome party? Who knew? Still, I took the opportunity to crack open the case I'd taken, pulling out what looked like a microchip. I kicked on my omni-tool and stared at it for a moment before shrugging and pressing it into the little control dial thing. It took a second but it seemed to take as information filled up my HUD. It was... oddly technical, but the gist of it was that it let me flash forge a few dozen miniature ball bearings into the case of a grenade before I threw it. Didn't seem to conflict with the Sticky function either, being designed to increase the damage potential of damn near any explosive it was attached to. Interesting.

I turned and wandered back, watching the little soap opera play out as Ashley tore into the smuggler, absently wondering if Shepard bothered to stop long enough to hack the other shed down the path or not. Likely no, given what they walked into. The conversation there wasn't really important, though, the big prize being some talking point weapons Shepard could take from them. Useful but largely irrelevant. He seemed to do well enough on his own anyway, so... shrug?

"Hey there." A voice said to my right. I glanced over, and saw Kaiden Alenko standing off to the side, watching as Ashley yelled, Shepard talked, and Nihlus looked somewhat put upon.

"Sup." I said, popping the P, before pulling out the rag and rifle and going back to it. The crap on it was still gooey, but drying quickly. Awesome. I made no move to continue the conversation, but that didn't seem to deter Alenko.

"So I hear you saved Nihlus. Good work on that. Things could have gotten... complicated if you hadn't." He said, glancing at me. I kept on cleaning, but shrugged in response.

"He was my bonus. Don't let that go if I don't have to." I decided on, playing up the "mercenary" aspect of my persona. He took it in stride regardless. If I remembered correctly, Kaiden was the generic foil to Ash's hostility, making him the more personable of the two without needing a prompt. More open, less standoffish, especially once you got him going.

"Still, it helps. You did the right thing, even if it wasn't for the right reasons. I can appreciate that." He said, and I gave him a look. That statement didn't really... mesh... with the image that I remembered of Alenko. I knew he popped some Turian General back at Jump Zero, was it? Hm. Shad something to do with the guy beating on a girl he had a crush on. Maybe that had something to do with it.

"Huh. Well, it is what it is. I don't re-" I was cut off by the crack of a sniper rifle and whatever I was about to say was cut off as my head shot up. Kaiden opened up immediately with his assault rifle, peppering the woods while I rolled over the crate I was sitting on and scanned the trees for anything.

More gunshots snapped by, hissing as the cracked uncomfortably close to my head. I opened up on a shadow in the woods, but I couldn't tell if I'd hit anything while Ashley and Nihlus had Shepard slung over their shoulders, dragging him past Alenko and I while we covered them as best we could. A single look showed CPWG dead on the ground, his skull spattered across the deck. Shit. Double shit.

Kaiden fell back, tapping me on the shoulder as he went over the lip of the catwalk and I flash forged a Cain Mine in response, ducking back as bullets tore apart the crate I had been hiding behind. Interesting fact: While Cain Mines needed three grenades to flash forge, they only needed one of the disc-mines, which made sense, huh? Either way, I abused the hell out of that fact when I snapped it onto the wall at waist height, before hopping over the catwalk railing myself and planting another at the base of the ramp, cuz you know what? Fuck those guys.

I sprinted hard, diving onto the platform trolley-train as it started to chug, Nihlus and Ashley firing wildly at the loading docks behind us as Geth piled forward. I added my rifle to the mix, cracking off shots as we pulled away, when suddenly the platform lit up like a roman candle. An explosion rocked the sheet metal surface as my first mine detonated, before chaining onto the second one in a cataclysm of force and fire. I blinked.

"Fuck, I did not expect Cain Mines to be that effective." I muttered, watching the whole of the loading dock, ramp and all, literally fall into the canyon the rails sat in, utterly destroying that section of the facility. I mean, yeah, C4, but fuck me man. That was cool.

"Finch! Pay attention!" Nihlus snapped, and my head shot around. He was sitting next to a prone Shepard applying medi-gel while Kaiden was hanging over him, doing something with his omni-tool. I moved over to them, ignoring the howling of the wind as I crouched down.

"What!?" I snapped out, eyes going over the hole in the left side of Shepard's torso which was liberally spurting blood.

"I need your medi-gel! All of it! Now!" He snapped, and I was taken aback at the force of the command. Almost reflexively I pulled the two remaining packs, which weren't really bigger than mayo packets, and handed them over, to which Nihlus immediately absorbed into his omni-tool and flooded over the hole in Shepard's chest.

I stared numbly as I watched them work to revive the main protagonist of the games with what looked to be little success, and a distinctly cold feeling started to come over me.

Shepard was down.

Oh shit.

Critical Mission Failure.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: So this is about it for the stuff I've already written and just needed to revise, and to be honest? Still not 100% on it. I ended up taking a fair bit out, replacing a few scenes, did a bit of polishing and cleaning and, well, it's still not really as good as I want it but I just can't think of any changes to make that wouldn't require a major, dedicated rewrite. Still, it's not bad and as it stands I'm going to post it as is. Hope you enjoy it!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1 Part 6<strong>

Echoes

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><p>I almost literally could not believe my eyes. Everything had been <em>fine<em> not ten minutes ago. Everything had been on track, and now? Now Shepard was laying on the damn ground with a hole in his chest, coughing up blood as the hole in his chest bubbled with every breath. Nihlus had dumped all of our medi-gel on him, which seemed to be helping and Kaidan was, apparently, running some kind of high-end medical diagnostic in the interim. I had no skill in healing, nor any particular insight into battlefield first aid, so all I could do was stand by and watch.

What the fuck just happened?

"What the FUCK just happened?" I asked incredulously, glancing over to the other member of the gallery as we watched the Spectre and Lieutenant stabilize Shepard, who in turn just kept on laying there insensate.

"I... I don't... know how it all got so out of hand." She was quiet. The rush of adrenaline was finally out of her system. She was crashing, losing her edge, letting herself get distracted. I clapped her on the shoulder.

"Focus! What the hell happened? Everything was fucking fine and then all of a sudden Geth everywhere and Shepard is bleeding out a hole in his chest, not to mention that civvie you guys torn to five kinds of shit. Care to fill me in?" I snapped. In all honesty, I'd never really liked Ashley in the game, not disliked, to be fair, but also not a fan thereof. Of course, her being so in love with the Systems Alliance and all it stood for also may or may not have put us at natural odds, given my mercenary background. The fact that I was on edge over the whole thing didn't help reign in my attitude either.

Her head snapped to mine the second I made contact, and I swear I heard her growl.

"Well?" I bit out after a moment of silence. I could see her glaring at me for it, before looking away.

"I lost control of the situation." She murmured, pointedly looking away from me crossing her arms. I barely heard her.

"What!? Speak up Williams! Look at me when you talk. I can't hear shit over the crosswind." I snapped out, and she shot back to me with a snarl.

"I said we lost control of the situation, Mercenary! What's it to you?" I blinked and can't believe she just asked something that stupid.

"What's it to me? What's it to ME!? I almost got my ass shot off by Surprise fucking Geth, so it's a fucking lot to me. Is that how this-" I waved to Shepard, who was finally in the clear as Nihlus and Kaidan started to move off, "-happened? He get sniped or something? Fucking fill me in, huh?"

"I- no. The dock worker you found shot him. He had a gun on him and-" I cut her off dead.

"What? Why?" The disbelief in my voice was palpable. Fuck me, what the hell had happened in the two minutes I'd been away from the conversation. Everything seemed to be on track until then.

"It was-" She started to say, but Nihlus cut her off.

"She confronted the dockworker about some stolen explosives. He grew agitated, and when she threatened him he drew a weapon and shot the Commander. Williams and I retaliated but the damage was done. The Geth assault afterward was just poor timing, though I suspect they were amassing for an attack in the woods." He said without missing a beat. I just stared. I mean, I remembered that conversation. Ash gets all pissy about the smuggling and Shepard talks down/threatens the witness guy into giving up his stash. That was all canon.

This?

"Fuck, why would you even do that!?" I cried incredulously. "Because we don't have enough goddamn problems already, right?" There was an audible clack as my hand met my visor. Fuck. This is... I don't even know. Completely random? How did this... oh shit. Oh shit. Fuck. I know how this happened. I know why.

I could see it. Instead of letting the dock worker come clean, I skipped that conversation. I skipped the whole thing, and just went to go grab the loot. It didn't even occur to me to think what might happen if Ashley Williams found out about the smuggling unprovoked. It didn't hit me that during the conversation in the game, all of them had guns pointed at him, that he wasn't two feet away from anyone, but most importantly, Shepard talked him into coming clean about the smuggling. In that version. This time I sent the Gunnery Chief after him on a warpath, and in a rage she tore into him, accused him, threatened him, and it made him snap. I had sent someone who had just suffered a tremendous emotional loss after a person who may well have deprived her squad of life saving munitions, and I did it cold cocked, just to get her away so I could pocket the grenade mod. I knew what she would do and did it because it was convenient for me. What was a benign interaction suddenly became a pressure cooker,

Shepard was shot because of me.

I dun goofed. Ash would pay for it, and now we were short the arguably most important member of the team. All because of an oversight. Little things, it seemed, could have big consequences if I wasn't careful. Playing Ash like that was one thing, but Shepard was out for the foreseeable future. He would live, hell, he would be fine given time, but for now he was out of the mission. The medi-gel fixed up the worst of it, but it couldn't replace lost blood. Not at the dosage we had. It could do the job, in theory, but we would need a fair bit more to get Shepard fighting fit.

"I just thought-" She started, but Nihlus cut her off sharply with a glare.

"No, that's just it. You didn't think. You let your emotions override your judgment and it got your commanding officer injured. Because of your poor control we're going to be walking in down two operators." He said in a cold, measured voice, cutting into her. I just stood by and watched. I was partially to blame for it, I knew, but what do you say to that? I knew you would get mad so I sent you off after someone else because you annoy me? I didn't have to wonder how that would turn out. I dropped the ball as much as she did, differing context aside, but my failing was something I could cover up without ever saying a word.

"Down two?" I cut in, finally. Nihlus looked to me and nodded.

"Yes. Someone is going to have to stay and watch over Shepard. He should regain consciousness shortly but he won't be in any condition to fight. Williams, you're volunteered. Finch, you and the Lieutenant will be joining me on the final push. Both of you should be ready, as I suspect the fighting will be the most intense we'll see today. Understood?" He said, and I nodded, moving off to talk to Alenko. As I turned, though, I ended up catching a quiet conversation between Ashley and the Spectre.

"You're taking the _mercenary_?" I could almost hear the venom in the word. Lovely. "He's only in it for the money! How could you trust him?" Distrust of aliens or not, it's nice to see I rank lower than that on her scale.

"Yes, Gunnery Chief Williams, I am. He's proven to be a resourceful, meticulous, effective asset on the field thus far. He knows when to fight and when to sneak, and he isn't prone to emotional outbursts that put us at risk." Oh ouch, that had to sting. "I am giving you this opportunity to remedy your earlier failing and protect the Commander while he recovers. I expect..."

I moved out of earshot. I sat down next to Kaidan, who had thus far kept himself separate from the drama. He seemed wrapped up in his own little world for the most part, but it had been a rough afternoon. For everyone.

"So how is he?" I opened with, catching Alenko's attention. "It looked bad."

"It was. The shot nicked one of his arteries and he was bleeding out. The medi-gel patched the hole and closed him up, but he lost a lot of blood in the interim. He'll be weak when he wakes up, but otherwise alright." He said, closing his omni-tool. "If you don't mind my asking, and please don't take this the wrong way, but why do you care?"

I could have been offended, really, but I know that wasn't what he was going for. Mercenaries have a reputation in Mass Effect, and it wasn't a pleasant one. I would have to work to break that overhanging reputation on a personal level, but it was far from impossible. All you needed was the right perception, the right belief. I'd fought harder battles with less, so I didn't really foresee a large number of issues with it, though the bar would be higher for some than others.

"Because I'm not, contrary to what the good Ms. Williams might believe, some money grubbing sociopath. I don't like to see people on my side go down. Not like that." I sighed, and he nodded.

"Fair enough. Still, that was some good work with the charges. If you hadn't set them we would have been taking fire all the way out of the station." He said, and I knew he was digging himself out of that hole he'd dug with his question. I let him.

"Liked that did you? Cain Trip Mines. They're never not useful." I chuckled, and he joined me. Surprising how easy he was to talk to, all things considered. I gave him an unseen grin. "So... want the program?" My tone belied my amusement. It was a small offering, really. A bridge. Kaiden was an easy read, honestly. He wanted to be friends with everyone, wanted to be the positive figure, wanted to be liked. It was how he came across, how he held himself, very honest, very open. It's easy with him, to build that bridge. A gift, unprompted, to open the door, and after that it would be simple to inch him into my corner.

"If you're offering. High Ex is usually only issued to spec ops and engineers, but with Shepard out and none of the latter, it couldn't hurt. Surprisingly generous of you." He said, flicking his omni-tool back on and cloning my Cain Mine app. I shrugged, and punched him in the shoulder.

"Eh, you seem like an okay guy. I'd hate to-" The words died in my mouth when I heard it. Like the low, crooning call of a foghorn in G Minor, it literally reverberated through me, and in that instant all I could hear was screeching static through my helmet, deafening me as I cried out and scratched at it to no avail. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe with the sensation of raw, unfiltered electricity pouring through my head and sending me to the floor.

I hit the ground hard, and rolled over just in time to see it. To see Sovereign. To see the Reaper.

The game did him no justice. A massive construct, ten times larger than an aircraft carrier with almost a dozen thick, heavy tendrils reaching down towards the earth below like the hand of an angry god, it was titanic, nightmarish, inconceivable. Plated in sleek, black armor that was strung together with incandescent lines of blue which coiled around it's core, it dominated the sky as the very air seemed to rumble in pain at it's passing. It was a thing that you could only really comprehend by being there. Nothing was larger, more impressive, more terrifying as it stood there, in defiance of gravity, of mass, of spin or force, unhindered by the paltry forces mankind had always been subject to. Thunder ripped through the air as it started to move, started to turn at a geometric rate, the very force of it causing static to crackle across it's hull as the friction of the atmosphere tried to slow it and failed as the wind itself seeming to break against it as the clouds scattering against it's hull, torn apart by the sheer magnitude of the ship.

I stared on, stunned, head pounding from the raw burst of force that had accosted me, just watching in silence as a thing so alien and incomprehensible compared to everything I knew oh so casually left the skies above. I watched it disappear, the last of the glowing lights across it's carapace vanishing into the haze and as it left I felt the weight of it's presence lift, and I could breathe again.

I glanced around as I lifted myself back up, but none of us were left unaffected. Even the stoic Nihlus Kryik was left staring, mouth wide, gasping for breath under that first taste of what I knew was to come. I took a deep breath, staring at the ground, trying desperately to hold some perspective. I wanted to vomit. I'd never been more afraid of anything in my entire life. Never felt so insignificant.

"What was that?" Ashley gasped out, "It was enormous!"

I couldn't say it, couldn't answer. Not yet. I couldn't tell them that it was a Reaper, that it was here to kill us all, that it was just the first of many and that our time was already running thin. I couldn't, because it was too much. I couldn't, because there was no sense to it, no logic, no reason. I couldn't, because that would violate the rules of the game, alienate all of them and destroy any chance I'd had of staying on.

So I did what I always do. I lied, and choked on the words.

"I don't know, but I hope it doesn't come back." I said grimly, wincing as I shook my head, "Gah, that fucking foghorn sent a blast of static through my speakers. Damn near blew out my ears. Fucker." My new found headache could attest to the volume, too. Fuck me that hurt.

"Amen to that." I almost jumped as Shepard's voice cut through. It was rough, dry, sore, but very much alive. I leaned against one of the railings on the train car and eyed him. He was... tired, it seemed. Dark rings around his eyes, breathing shallow, sluggish movements, all signs of just how badly he'd been hit. The blood loss was a significant factor, one that would have killed him even after the wounds had closed without us dumping all the rest of our medi-gel in to replace what he'd lost, and even then he was still far from capable. Apparently, medi-gel had a poor conversion rate when it came to direct transfer from one medium to another, but still it made the difference, fortunately.

"Good to have you back, sir." Alenko popped in from the side. I glanced at him, and he glanced back, before we both went back to the Commander. Ashley was all ears now, and Nihlus stood and walked over.

"Indeed, it's good to have you awake once more Commander. We have things to discuss." Nihlus, as always, went strait to the point. I glanced away, tuning him out. Nothing he had to say was new.

"Alright. Fill me in." Shepard said, and Nihlus did. Kaidan and Ashley had capitalized a corner of the train, talking in low voices while I just stared on silently. I ignored them, ignored Shepard and Nihlus, ignored everything, lost in the thoughts of what I had just seen. Nothing could have prepared me, nothing could have even come close. I knew it from the game, but it never really hit me, the feeling of what it was like to actually be there. To actually see Sovereign. To feel the weight of it's presence.

It was terrifying. Horrifying. I just... needed some time to think. Needed time to plan. To evaluate. To ponder and plot. To distract myself.

It was a short trip.

The ride in total was maybe fifteen, twenty minutes at most. Long enough to catch our breath, but not nearly enough to make the difference. We moved Shepard to the back of the train. It was a good six cars out from where the tram engine would link up at the station, and with the elevated nature of the tram itself, meant that the only real approach was from directly forward. So long as we kept our momentum up, Ashley wouldn't have too many issues protecting Shepard from incoming Geth. Once the fighting was done, she would bring up the Commander for pickup, or so the plan went.

As for we three, we made our way up to the engine compartment and crouched down behind the metal-backed chairs that dominated the bulk of the car as we watched the station start to come up from around the bend. The chairs would make adequate cover for our initial push but they wouldn't hold up to a concentrated barrage. Still better than air and good hope, though, and they could take a few hits. Hopefully.

"When we hit, pick your targets carefully and be ready to move. Tactics are going to be changing on the fly, and we're going to need to keep clear lines of sight at all times. Stay low and watch for overhang fire, and keep your eyes peeled for heavy weapons in the area. Call them when you see them and keep your head on, this is going to be messy!" Nihlus shouted over the oncoming wind, and I listened closely as we moved into the docking zone. All at once, there was silence.

Snap-hiss! I ducked as a round came perilously close to my head, denting the top of the seat we'd been hiding behind. I glanced at my motion tracker and holy shit that was a lot of signatures! My rifle jumped into my hands and I cracked off two shots before dropping down behind cover, before the Geth started to pepper our position with plasma fire..

I glanced over to Alenko, and then to Nihlus, who were alternating firing and ducking in much the same way that I was. The Spectre glanced at us, crouched down like a coiled spring, his mind working on tactics while we traded rounds, neither side really making an impact. Most of the fire was coming from a bridge that sat at the edge of the dock and the two side rails that lined the upper area of the deck. We were lucky it was far back enough to keep them from shooting behind our cover, but the dozen-plus signatures were disintegrating our cover with every volley while we weren't even making a dent.

"Alenko, on my mark, barrier over us! Finch! Prep grenades and toss them over the left railing. We're going to make a hard push to the upper level!" I nodded and let my rifle hang off the strap I'd forged for it (such a good call) while I palmed two of my purloined canister grenades, Nihlus mirroring me.

"On three! One!" I popped the plug on the first explosive, and my omni-tool flashed into being, covering it in both micro-bearings and magnetizing it, prepping it for a toss. "Two!" Alenko flared up, and for the first time in my life I saw real biotics. Like a haze of pure energy, it coated every inch of the man, crackling with static as his hands went incandescent. "Three!"

Suddenly biotic light flared and the vicious pinging that had marked our position vanished, the shots rippling against the barrier like stones on a calm lake. The highlights were beautiful, stunning even, but I blinked it away. Nihlus was already on the move, sending his right over the nearest rail. In one smooth motion my body flowed into a perfect pitcher's stance, hurling the first explosive on a gorgeous arc that sent it right over the plate-covered rail the Geth were hiding behind, the grenade making a sharp turn at the last moment and latching onto a stunned Geth. I didn't pause. Already my second was in my hand and flying in tandem with Nihlus, both of us sending a third and fourth almost as soon as the first and second hit.

The whole of that side detonated with a staggering set of blasts that flattened the area, sending whole cargo containers flying off the edge of the platform interspersed with chunks of Geth and bits of debris. In an instant I was up, following Nihlus as Kaidan's barrier flickered and finally failed, my shield screaming from the hits that slid off me as I sprinted full bore up the ramp to our side.

I almost saw it too late as I cut around the bend. A Geth, or rather half of one, lying behind a half-blasted crate, weapon raised, already opening fire on my already weakened shields. I could see it in almost perfect clarity, the body, sans legs, lying there on it's side, trigger pulled, rifle whirring up, each shot crashing through my ears as my hands stumbled along my weapon. I had no time, but the world moved so slowly. I could feel my limbs like molasses, my hand flying back, wrapping around the handle of my blade, pulling it loose as I dived onto the top of the trooper, knocking it's weapon away and burying the length of it up to it's hilt in it's chest.

Its hands came up, pushing me off as much as it could but I drew the blade back and slammed it home again, and again, and again, before rolling us around. My back to the pavement, I put both legs against its chest and pushed hard, my knife yanking free and sending the remains over the edge of the railing. It hadn't taken more than fifteen seconds. It felt like an eternity.

"You okay!?" I heard someone shout, and I forced myself back onto my feet, rolling up into a sitting position and scrambling forward, getting my very exposed ass back behind a crate. I glanced up and saw Alenko looking at me from behind his own disgorged crate and nodded.

"I'm fine!" I snapped and grabbed my rifle, pressing it against my shoulder and popping out to put a finishing touch on one of the more adventurous troopers. I glanced back, looking for Nihlus, but he was nowhere to be seen. Funny, I'd thought I was right behind him.

"We have a problem!" Kaiden shot back at me, and I gave him a look.

"What problem!?" Okay, that was a little sharper than I was going for, but it was okay. Kaidan was too busy shooting at the Geth to really hear me anyway.

"Up the ramp, I spotted what looked like a heavy mining charge! It was on, probably set on a timer! We need to disable that one and another on the opposite side of the bridge or it'll collapse the front of the compound!" Oh right. That was a thing.

"Fuck." I whispered. "Tina, talk to me. What can you tell me about these mining charges?" I said, and in an instant a wireframe of the long, cylindrical and stunningly familiar explosive came up.

"The CMC-440A19 Pressure Detonation Explosive contains roughly fifty pounds of the explosive compound commonly referred to as C4. The cylindrical body of the explosive is designed to amplify the pressure wave directly outwards in an even pattern, which has been optimized for use in tight, confined spaces. Caution is advised. Warning! I am detecting several of these explosives throughout the area, placed on key load-bearing points of this structure. Warning! I am detecting an active charge in these explosives. I advise vacating the premises." I winced at that. If I could recall, there were four of them in total, and from what it sounds like, they were exactly as bad as I'd thought they might be.

Shit.

"Tina, can you tell me how long I have before they explode?" I asked with a pinched voice.

"Yes. I am detecting a charge buildup in the detonation matrix of the nearest explosive. At it's current rate, you have two minutes and fifty-four seconds before the matrix has enough built up charge to set off the primary explosive compound." And like that, a timer kicked on over my motion tracker. Goody.

"Kaidan, where's Nihlus!?" I asked, popping up to pepper a large, red oh shit. "Scratch that, Destroyer incoming!" I snapped, and as if to punctuate my discovery a rocket slammed bodily into some nearby railing, and unlike in the game, that railing was just fucking gone.

"I see it! Warping!" His arm shot out like he was throwing a curveball, and in that instant a fistful of what looked like jelly shot out of his outstretched palm and hit the Destroyer face first. I could see the armor it hit visibly start to melt and tarnish, disintegrating under the glowing purple stain. I didn't hesitate to bring my rifle up and fire as Kaidan joined me a second later, tearing into the Geth as it began to flail from having it's face melted off. I suspected that if it could feel that it would be screaming right now, but as it was I couldn't really care.

It went down under our combined fire and hit the ground with a hard thump. I watched as it's rocket launcher skittered forward, and in that instant I had a thought. It was a crazy thought. Insane. Completely psychotic, really. Almost out of character, you might say, but as I watched the seconds tick down I just... couldn't think of anything else. We were stuck. Nihlus was off doing fuck only knew what, probably disarming the bombs at the other end of the compound and us? We were struck here like pigs on a spit while time ticked down.

We needed a solution to our problem. I just wish I had something better.

"Hey Kaidan!" I yelled over the Geth's retaliatory fire, grabbing his attention as I lobbed another Sticky Grenade, cutting me down to two. He glanced at me during the lull with a questioning look on his face.

"What!?" He shouted back, before popping up to toss another biotic blast of some kind at the Geth.

"How stable is C4!?" He looked at me funny when I asked that, and shrugged.

"Pretty stable! You can basically light it on fire and it won't go up! Needs an electrical charge to detonate!" Well alright then. Maybe this really was a viable idea. Brilliant.

"Good! Cover me!" I shot back at him, and he gave me a wide-eyed look as I punched on my Shield Boost. In that instant I hopped out of from behind the crate I was using as cover and shot forward, my rifle hanging from my shoulder and forgotten as I did a messy belly slide across the catwalk, slamming first into the discarded rocket launcher and then again into a crate that sat haphazardly across the middle of the path.

I rolled onto my back and gave Kaiden a thumbs up. He just stared at me a moment before shaking it off and returning fire on the Geth that had gone out of cover to flank me. They were less than successful.

I glanced at the weapon in my arms. Originally I'd thought that the Geth would have their own anti-armor weapons but no, apparently the ML-77 made it's way around town. It wasn't even locked out, really. The thing just snapped into my HUD's weapons loadout overview as soon as I touched it, telling me that it had fourteen of it's happy little friends ready to go. I guess that made sense, though. Geth didn't have the ability to gene-lock anything, what with their lack of genes and leaving it open source meant that another Geth could just as easily pick the gun up after it's first owner went down and use it without any problems. Kind of like the Soviets in WW2, actually. Huh.

See how well that worked out for them. It was mine now. I had a solution. I glanced at Kaiden, and he looked back at me wide-eyed. I checked that the safety was off, and gave Kaiden an unseen grin as his face went white.

"No, Finch, No!" I shot up and pulled the trigger. The rocket was smaller than I thought it would be, but it flew true. It hit a Geth that had just come out of hiding and that Geth summarily ceased to be. I pulled the trigger again, and the conical tube on the front of the rocket launcher cycled to the left before firing a fresh rocket. Then I pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, over and over. Rockets flew, and in that moment of panic I felt it like a force of nature.

_Chaos._

That was when a rocket slammed bodily into the mining charge, and it went up like a nuke. There was no pause, no warning, just the slow motion of the shockwave as it disintegrated one of the massive two-ton crates that sat behind the Geth. The Geth themselves had no time, had no chance, as the wave hit them, and they just burst into a thousand flaming bits as a wall of fire enveloped them. My eyes went wide.

I turned and hit the ground hard, arms over my head, as I saw a flash of biotics form a diagonal plane of pure energy above me. In that instant the pressure hit, and my shields shattered like so much glass from the force but it didn't flatten me like I was expecting. Instead, even as the barrier above disintegrated and deflected the wave away from me just enough to not burst me like a balloon. The force was enormous, even with the initial shock past, and I found myself flying ass over teakettle from the rolling force as it bounced me clear off the ground.

I hit the ground hard on my shoulder, and I just knew I was going to be one big bruise after this. That said, I had held up remarkably well barring the fact that I was slightly on fire, but that seemed to be the worst of it. The blast had been mitigated through sheer chance and I was so, so very glad that Kaidan liked me enough to save my sorry ass. Admittedly, shooting the charge was a bit of an error. Admittedly. But hey, it worked, right? I hauled myself up, picking my rifle up and, surprise surprise, the rocket launcher was no worse for the ware either. Gotta love that hardy future-tech design.

Even had a half-dozen rockets left. I grinned.

"You!" I glanced up and saw a very pissed off looking Kaidan stomping up to me.

"Me." I said with a grin in my voice. Somewhat wrong answer, as he punched me in the chest for it. Hard. Ow.

"You dumbass! You could have killed us!" He snapped at me with a scowl.

"Ah, but I didn't. Besides, you said C4 was stable." I shrugged. His eye twitched.

"Not if you blow it up! I mean, look at this!" I did, and it was _impressive_. There was a three meter deep crater where the explosive had been, and basically everything on the platform was just... gone. No Geth, no crates, I mean, hell, even the rails were missing. The metal walls were deformed and the load bearing pylons that stood a short ways away were bent and mangled beyond recognition. The damage was phenomenal.

"Huh. Well, at least the Geth are dead. Speaking of, did you get that explosive charge down there?" I asked, my casual tone bringing him up short.

"What? Yeah. I got it." He said. I glanced down over the edge and saw that he'd basically just pulled out the detonator and pulled all the leads out. Huh. That was... less complicated than I thought it would be, but then again, it's a civilian demolitions charge. It would be stupid if it wasn't easy to disarm if they had to.

I chuckled. "So... we win?" I said with a grin. He looked at me and shook his head.

"We win." He snorted.

"Oh hey uh, thanks for that barrier. Probably saved my ass with that. Appreciate it." I said, folding up the rocket launcher and placing it against the mag-lock where a sniper rifle normally goes. He nodded to me.

"Not a problem. Stupid or not I wasn't just going to let you die. Just uh... don't do it again." He said with a grin.

"Yeah yeah. It wasn't my best move, aye?" I said, and shouldered my rifle.

"No, but it was effective nonetheless. Well done." I damn near jumped out of my skin when I heard Nihlus's voice behind me.

"Son of a bitch don't fucking do that!" I snapped at him but he just smiled it off.

"I'm afraid I can't comply." Oh you could just hear the smug. "Still, good work. I've disabled the other two charges and neutralized what Geth weren't drawn to you in the interim. I would have moved onto the Beacon itself, but the explosion caught my attention."

"Cheh, a guy makes one mistake..." I snorted, but he ignored me.

"So that's all that's left?" Kaiden asked, readying his own rifle, and Nihlus nodded.

"Yes. Alenko, you'll be on point. Finch, you're following me." He said, drawing his own rifle and Kaiden pressed his against his shoulder. I moved to follow, but Nihlus paused to glance back at me. "And Finch? Try not to blow anything else up, okay?" I could hear the smirk. I snorted and didn't comment.

And with that we pressed onwards and upwards to the Beacon that awaited us. I glanced at my compatriots with narrowed, focused eyes. This ride was coming to an end. I had to be ready for it.

* * *

><p><strong>End Chapter One<strong>


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